Gun Punk
by Amigodude
Summary: Revy's desperate struggle to survive the violence of Chinatown and the gang wars ten years before the events of Black Lagoon.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Lagoon; Rei Hiroe does. Nor do I have any special insight into Revy's backstory past what is the anime/manga. This is all my interpretation.

**Chapter 1: Until the Very End of You  
**

_The two of us,  
All used and beaten up,  
Watching fate as it flows down the path we have chose.  
You and me,  
We're in this together now  
None of them can stop us now  
We will make it through somehow  
You and me  
If the world should break in two,  
Until the very end of me  
Until the very end of you._

_- "Until the Very End of You" copyright, Nine inch Nails_

_"It was beyond fucked up."_

_- Revy_

--

Detective Alicia Turner turned off of Delancey Street into one of the side roads of the lower East Side to see the same familiar scene: The cluster of police cars and a lone ambulance. The flash of emergency lights bouncing off of the slick wet sides of buildings.

The same familiar scene, the same sick feeling in her gut.

Parking was not an issue with the road blocked. But before she got out, Alicia took one long drag on her cigarette. Then opened the door and stepped out into the unfocused drizzle.

Three officers stood by the tape, their features indistinct in the rain. Another cluster of emergency personnel stood by the skewed delivery truck in the middle of the street. A few onlookers huddled by the side of the buildings, blending into the grey of the twilight.

"What do we have?" she said.

It took a second before she got a response from one of the officers, then one spoke.

"Hit and run. Nothing we haven't seen before."

And nothing she hadn't already heard. She ducked under the tape.

--

The subway car jolted and screeched.

The girl moved rapidly, the boy in tow. She dodged and squeezing past the packed commuters effortlessly. He struggled to keep up.

They were both Asian, the girl twelve years of age, thin with a feral face and intense unblinking eyes, black hair so dark it was almost purple, cut raggedly short at the collar. The boy was ten, with a tired pale face. One eye was swollen shut.

They went between cars, their senses assaulted with the shrill screech of metal on metal and then into the next car, oddly empty for this time. A typical subway car with the flickering lights and the hard plastic seats. The girl was satisfied and slowed down. They moved towards the center of the car to the doors.

There was nothing to do, but stand themselves. She shrugged the small backpack off and let it drop at their feet. With tight grips they held onto the metal poles, swaying with each lurch of the car.

"Where are we going, Rebecca?" the boy asked after a while.

She paused.

He repeated the question.

"Anywhere, Aki." she spit, unwilling to look at the boy, lest he see the look of fear in her eyes.

How many nights had she woken up in the small room they shared, to see their foster father leaning over her? The man's sour breath ragged with an excitement that nauseated her. Most times, he would hold a pillow over her head, muffling what few sounds she finally couldn't hold back, till her head swam. Afterwards the man would whisper in her ear what he would do to Akihito if she ever told anyone.

But, and she stole a quick glance at Akihito who was looking blankly at one of the ever-present ads in the subway car, he had lied -as he did about everything. The black and blue swelling around Akihito's had been the trigger.

No one was ever going to save them. Not the case workers, not the police – and at that thought a savage sneer came unbidden to her lips – and certainly not their parents. Whoever the hell they had been.

--

"I'm Sergeant Phil Antonucci from the 27th precinct," the man said tonelessly.

Detective Turner stood over him. He was seated on the pavement, ten meters from the cluster of paramedics.

"That frickin' little bitch did this," he said louder and more distinctly. He slammed his fist down. It was bleeding.

Alicia knelt down beside the stricken man.

"Who's the bitch," she said.

--

The train came screeching to a halt at the platform, and the doors opened with that bing-bong sound Rebecca found so annoying.

Wrinkling her nose at the familiar urine stench that pervaded so many of the subway stations Rebecca stepped off the train. Her brown eyes darted around the platform, noting the busker playing halfheartedly on a guitar. She took Akihito's hand firmly and moved towards the stairs.

Their directness and intent caught the attention of the MTA employee behind her plexi-glass counter. The warning had just come over the bulletin about two runaways – usually not of any importance – but these runaways were different. She reached for the phone.

--

Later, alone in her office far from the dismal scene, Alicia Turner went over what she had been told.

The two children had been reported missing this morning. Runaways were common, but their foster father was a New York City police officer. That had been enough to alert the entire emergency infrastructure of the city.

Both of the children had been in a number of foster homes, The boy was 2nd generation Japanese-American. The girl was of Chinese descent. An infant cast-off, never put with a proper family.

The girl... Alicia frowned going over the records. More placements than could be believed. Reports of violence, horrific mood swings, frantic attempts at control by foster parents.

All that had stopped six months ago, when she had been taken in by the Antonucci's, a couple living in New Jersey. A comment indicated that the girl had had been protective of the younger boy – as if she felt it was her responsibility to watch out for Akihito.

Sergeant Phillip Antonucci was a decorated veteran of the NYPD. His record was stellar, a long history of service. The sergeant and his wife had taken in numerous children over the years. The records indicated a loving environment.

But then today, something had gone wrong. Not everything was what it appeared to be.

--

"I need to stop."

"No."

They were close to Chinatown, the red signs with gold chinese lettering starting to appear on the building fronts.

"I need to stop," Akihito said. He jerked his hand out of Rebecca's and broke free.

They were at a corner, a small nondescript plaza. Akihito ran up the stairs there, but stumbled on the top one and fell.

Rebecca followed, cursing under her breath.

She sat down beside Akihito while he held his head – earlier as they had come up of the subway, she had snatched a cigarette from the hand of an astonished bystander. Her payment had been a middle finger at his sudden shout. There wasn't much left to it, and it took vigorous puffing to keep it alive in the rain that had started to fall.

"It hurts."

"We have to go! We have to keep moving Aki."

"Where are we going?"

She descended into stuttering obscenities, "I don't fucking know, OK?. I just don't know! But we couldn't stay there any longer with those fuckers. They hurt you."

She left unspoken what had been happening to her these last few months. She would never admit it.

"We're in this together aren't we?"

"Yes we are, I swear they won't ever hurt us, you again."

She hugged him awkwardly, it was unfamiliar. And for one brief final moment the world was okay. The rain muffled any sound.

There was a loud noise, the sound of a truck muffler backfiring in the distance, the gears grinding. She felt the muscles in Akihito's back suddenly tense. It was not the sound though that caused his alarm.

"He's here Rebecca!"

She whipped her head around. Two policeman and a man in plain clothes were coming towards them from a parked cruiser. The man... there was no mistaking who it was.

"No," was all she could mouth, the word not even passing her lips.

It was wrong. It wasn't fair. She wouldn't accept it. She grabbed Akihito and yanked him up. They bolted down the stairs, down the side road . Rebecca slung off the backpack and left it on the stairs.

"GO!"

--

Hours had passed, it was late in the evening and Detective Turner was still looking at her computer screen.

She couldn't find the right words. The clinical, detached words eluded her.

From the first hand accounts of the policemen involved the children had run the instant they had seen Sergeant Antonucci and the others. They had given chase.

The boy had been too slow.

The girl had at the last moment swerved and upset a pile of garbage cans on the sidewalk. It seemed totally futile and worthless to Turner. A desperate attempt that would have barely slowed the pursuing officers.

But the boy had then darted between two cars, running out into the road. Right in front of a small truck. The driver had been looking away at just the wrong moment.

Alicia Turner felt sick again. It must have been an instantaneous death, the boy Akihito had not felt a thing – the trauma too massive, too sudden.

She couldn't do anymore. She would finish the report tomorrow. She turned off the monitor and leaned back in her chair.

In the confusion, the girl had vanished. She had kept running. Rebecca was gone.

--

The memories would return in her nightmares. She would never talk of them again. Not to Rock, who reminded her so much of the boy. Never to Eda whom she trusted like a sister; meaning not at all.

"Oh god, I screwed up."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Stereo Slim's Basement Hell.**

_Something takes a part of me.  
Something lost and never seen.  
Every-time I start to believe,  
Something's raped and taken from me... from me._

_- "Freak on a Leash," copyright Korn _

_"When I was a brat and crawling around in the streets, for some reason God and love were always sold out."_

_- Revy_

--

When Rebecca woke up the first time, there was nothing but pain.

The second time was exactly the same.

The third time she lay in a haze, able to handle the pain as long as she didn't move. Able to make out her surroundings though it took a long time.

The floor was dark, stained linoleum. She lay crumpled on it wrapped in a thick, tattered blanket. Her head lay in a crust of drool and what appeared and smelt to be her own vomit.

Three meters away was a wall with a door. The dim light came from the other direction, enough to make her believe there was a window and that it was sometime during the day. She could hear the hum of traffic, the honking of the cars.

There was a bowl, filled with water within reach – and eventually she made the gut-wrenching move to drink from it through swollen, dried lips. The effort exhausted her and after a while with the room growing dark as night came on, she slept again.

The next day she was well enough to cry. She cried for herself, and for Akihito. Muffled sobs that shook her bruised body and caused blinding jags of pain through her head. When she touched her scalp she found large bumps underneath the hair.

Someone had been there during the night, the bowl had been refilled and there was a stale piece of bread.

Forcing herself to sit up, she was able to rest against the base of the bed she had been left lying at. The blanket fell off and she took stock that she was wearing only a t-shirt she had never seen before. Attempts at pulling it down for modesty proved futile. It was too short, so she wrapped the blanket around her. She drank the water and ate the bread.

When she attempted to stand up, using the backboard of the bed as an aid, she toppled over with a scream. Her feet were swollen and striped with red streaks.

It took most of the next hour for her to work up the nerve to sit back up. By then she had a better understanding of the apartment.

It was a small, shabby tenement, apparently she was in the bedroom/living room, with a small decrepit kitchenette underneath the window at the other end. To the right of where she had been lying was a small dresser with a television and a VCR. A large chair had been moved into the middle, to make room for her.

She considered making the effort to crawl into the bed, and felt the stirring of emotion again, in this case indignation. Then she realized what that would imply; better to be the dog at the foot of the bed than the whore looking for protection.

Now Rebecca could recall how close she had been.

"I'm not a whore," she whispered and closed her eyes.

--

"Dead girl alive, 'bout time."

The man standing above her was as nondescript as they came. If anything he resembled a janitor just done with work in his faded blue chinos and paler blue, button-downed shirt. A wide, tight smile did not reach his eyes.

"_Ni hao ma_?" he said after a moment, to which she could only shake her head.

"Only in America can you find a Chinese girl who isn't Chinese – what a country!" the man shrugged and took off his hat.

He busied himself in the little kitchenette and then came back, turned on the light on the dresser and seated himself in the chair. The man waited patiently, his eyes not quite focused on her, but waiting for her.

They sized each other up through the long minutes as the last remnants of the afternoon faded into evening and the street sounds of New York City began. More and more she was aware of her status, half naked and beaten in a stranger's abode and it did not sit well with her. But she remembered all too clearly now what this grey, little man was capable of, and what he had done for her.

"Why?" she finally asked.

"How you chose to die impressed me," he said.

"I don't..." she murmured, at a loss.

"Then I tell you," he said leaning back in the chair and lighting up a reefer that he must have acquired in the kitchen. "Did you see what I did to that boy 'Mutha?"

"Yes," Rebecca said.

"I thought maybe you were out at that point, he was kicking your head through the wall."

"You cut his throat," she said staring back at him. She would not look down.

"My name is Gaan, Mr. Gaan from Thailand, formerly of the Black Panthers to those who know me." he said. "When the Hop Sing Tong needs someone dead in Chinatown without noise or attention, I'm the one who takes care of it."

Rebecca mustered an eyebrow raise. He didn't look black enough to be a Black Panther. She had heard the term before in a movie. It wasn't worth interrupting as he continued.

"Stereo Slim and his friends have been getting behind in their payments, they can't just work this territory and think we'll let it slide. I didn't need to kill 'Mutha to get the point across. But after what you did it was a bonus."

"I bet you were going to be the new bottom bitch of his stable," Gaan said. "Hhmm,you look about fourteen" Gaan said. "How long were you there?"

"I don't know," she said, looking down and cradling her head in her arms.

"I... ran away and spent a couple of weeks camped out behind a dumpster in back of some restaurant. I didn't know what to do. The help must have noticed me and thought it would be a good joke, cause they put something in the food they threw out in the dumpster."

I was so goddamn sick for a day," she said listlessly, "and then when she came by, that girl - Nicole - she kept twitching – she said she knew where I could stay – they'd give me food and take care of me. I was so weak, so I said yes..."

"They took care of me alright. Took me into a basement and..." she couldn't go on.

Gaan handed her what was left of a joint.

"Stereo Slim wasn't there when I dropped by to pick up the payment," said Gaan evenly to the girl. "Just that _thoot ma_ boy calling himself 'Mutha. He was all junked up. Thought he could put me off by showing me his new toy."

"They," and Gaan giggled, a high pitched noise, "had you tied up in the bathroom – musta been pretty funny for them. But when he bent down to slap you around, you spit in his face and kicked him in the nuts."

Gaan waving his finger in the air for a while, tracing something meaningful in the smoke only to him.

"I don't get it," she said finally.

"Yes you do," he said, the tone hard. "You could have taken whatever they had in the works for you and become their ho. Instead, even though you knew it meant Stereo and 'Mutha – they would take you back down in that basement to finish you, you chose to hurt 'Mutha good just because you had the chance."

"If you hadn't done that, I would have walked out of that place without a blink and you'd still be there in whatever hell you chose to be in."

"That's why you alive now, girl – not him."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Mr. Gaan and Machine Gun Dutch.**

_Ain't found a way to kill me yet  
Eyes burn with stinging sweat  
Seems every path leads me to nowhere  
Wife and kids household pet  
Army green was no safe bet  
The bullets scream to me from somewhere._

_- "Rooster," copyright Alice in Chains  
_

_"- amen, hallelujah, peanut butter."_

_- Dutch_

--

As if being tortured and held captive for however long it had been wasn't enough, Rebecca then became violently sick, retching and shaking violently with fever.. With almost no respite or relief she was again curled up in a miserable ball of pain underneath her shabby blanket on the floor.

Mr Gaan, who seemed to find her misery exceptionally entertaining left a bottle of aspirin within arms reach. He wasn't all that concerned, except when she didn't make it to the bathroom.

"You never did tell me your name, dead girl?" he said one morning as he headed out to do whatever he did; she wasn't interested at that point in anything except the next breath.

"It's Rebecca," she croaked through cracked lips.

"Heya, I call you Levi then, like Johnny or Timmy," Mr. Gaan wasn't able to roll the 'r' properly off his lips.

"Asshat," Rebecca muttered once he left, the first small emotion to come to her in a while. But from then on she began to think of herself as Revy. It made her think of rebel. She didn't want to think of herself as Rebecca the runaway anymore. Rebecca was pathetic. Rebecca had been used and treated like something to be washed down a gutter.

Without the slightest knowledge on her part Revy's thirteenth birthday came and went. Even if she had known, there was nothing she would have celebrated.

Soon she was able to walk. It took five strides to go from the door to the kitchenette. Turn, go back. Do it again.

Clothing was an issue. As soon as she could, Revy went through Gaan's clothing. Not surprising the choices were as bland as the man presented himself to be.

When he came that evening he found the painfully thin teenager floundering about in a pair of rolled up blue chinos and blue work shirt that hung to her knees.

"I need underwear, I need shoes," she said looking at him accusingly with her brown feverish eyes.

"Get them yourself," he said and giggled. Already she was growing tired of the giggle.

She looked down, hiding the scowl. Rebecca... Revy, had to be careful, she remembered all too clearly the blood springing from 'Mutha's neck in a spray of red. The knife appearing from nowhere. This gray man killed with casual ease.

She was alive not because he had felt sorry for her, but because she had amused him.

--

Mr. Gaan liked American westerns. There were several stacks of second-hand tapes by the dresser: Rio Bravo, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, The Good the Bad the Ugly.

With nothing else to do while she recovered she started watching them. As it got hotter and hotter in the apartment as spring went into summer, Revy would sit or sprawl on the floor watching the television with the remote clutched in her hand. When Gaan came back, (he would disappear for days on end and then show up), he'd listen to her opinion of the westerns.

The Duke was okay, but talked too much. The Man with no Name was obviously cooler than cool.

She didn't like Frank Miller in High Noon.

"Why didn't he just go straight to the train station and shoot the three dipshits in the back? Then he could'a shot Frank Miller down right as he got off the train."

"Then he coulda burned the town down or somethin', what a bunch of pussies."

She was equally dismissive of Shane.

"What an frickin asshole. What a stupid kid. But The Man in Black," she hooted excitedly the child forgetting the sullen attitude, " now he was fricking cool! Fucking alright!"

"Girl, there's something wrong with you." said Gaan passing her a joint.

But the Wild Bunch won her. The talk. The Walk. The look in William Holden's eye at the end. She wanted to have the guns and the choice to stand and deal out death and die doing it. She wanted to shoot the Mexicans in that ruined church; she wanted to stand up and blow 'Mutha's head off before he started kicking her over and over; she wanted that bitch who had talked her into that hellhole, wanted to make her bleed and die in absolute shrieking pain; she wanted Stereo Slim to scream for mercy, like she had, while she shot him in the knees, the arms, the balls, the head, oh die you motherfucking shit, with your fucking head blown off and your brains and blood all over the place...kill that bastard cop Antonucci, I'll kill him, kill him, I'll kill them fucking all!

Swaying back and forth as if in a trance, her lips stretched back in an awful rictus exposing her teeth, she'd pound the floor with her fists till the neighbor's cat below started to yowl.

Then Revy would rewind the tapes and watch them again.

--

The evening came when Gaan led her to the rooftop of the tenement building, warily staying several steps behind as they went up the tight stairwell to the top.

"You shouldn't worry, I'm no _Khun Pa_," he said back to her with his spare smile, as he unlocked the door to the rooftop. Apparently he really was a janitor, or maintenance man – or played the part really well.

The sky was a blotchy red, with clouds hanging still over the city. Below them lay the streets of Chinatown. The Brooklyn Bridge behind them, the Twin Towers looming over the lower island with the red lights blinking up on the cloud piercing antennae . On the rooftop the street noise was far away, the usual gunshots and police sirens wailing below..

They sat down at the edge and watched the sun set over Manhattan, watched the lights turn on as the city that never slept prepared itself for night.

"_Koat hew!_" exclaimed Mr. Gaan lighting up, "I'll order a pizza later – it's the one American food I like. You need a lot of pizza girl, you're a walking skeleton."

He offered as usual the joint to Revy, but she shook her head. "Do you have a cigarette? That stuff makes me stupid as hell."

"Kills the pain," he said with a shrug.

With the sun down and the air thick and heavy as it could be, no stars even remotely visible in the city haze, Revy asked the question that had been bothering her since he had introduced himself.

"How the hell can you be a Black Panther? You're from Thailand, right?"

"Royal Thai Black Panther Division," Mr. Gaan said quietly between inhales. "We fought in 'nam."

"Oh," that explained it to Revy's satisfaction, but he kept talking.

"The Black Panthers were all volunteers and when the Americans asked for help, we served. But by the time we got sent there, they'd given up. The Americans won every battle, every single fight, and then they gave up and punked out. We couldn't make sense of it then, but these boys knew they weren't fighting for anything anymore, just live and leave was all they cared about.

"We were stationed up north of Saigon, I led an LRRC team, that's long range recon and I remember this one time we were out and met up with an American platoon. They were a bunch of bloods as they called themselves, black American conscripts who didn't give a damn about the White Man's war and for fighting for the Brown Man.

"I was the only one of my team that could speak English so I started talking with this one tall corporal whom they all called Dutchie. He must have been all of sixteen, said he'd lied about his age cause the military beat sitting around at home with a drunken mother. He was a calm, cool boy whom they all listened instead of their Lieutenant. He was the man.

"They were all excited when they heard we were the Black Panthers. Most of them planned to join a group back stateside that was also called the Panthers and start a revolution somewhere in California.

"Well they never got the chance cause we walked right into an ambush.

"It was about as perfect an evening as you could imagine, calm and quiet with none of that rain that filthy place usually has. Usually we could tell when the NVA were out there, but we were distracted and thought we were in a safe zone, the ARVIN was supposed to have cleared the area.

"All hell broke loose, those bloods took the worst being in the lead, most of them stoned out of their minds. Don't get me wrong, Americans can and do fight harder than anyone when they want to, but they didn't give a damn, and it got them killed that day, it happens quick..

"The bullets just tore through us. We hit the ground hard and radioed for anything. But it was a complete snafu as the Americans would call it. Everyone was shrieking and dieing badly with their guts in their hands. We had run into what must have been several hundred NVA, North Vietnamese soldiers, who shouldn't have been that far south at all..

"Soon enough out of the twenty four of us who were out there, it was just me, and two Americans; the radio man and that boy Dutch. He had the heavy machine gun and kept on shooting and yelling hallelujah..

"Dutch grabbed me, I almost shot him I was so rattled. I had pissed my pants and crapped my pants, but you'd be surprised how many tough guys do that in the heat of battle.

'Can you run?' he said with the biggest grin I'd ever seen. "We got planes coming that are going to hit our position with jelly, and we don't want to be here when that happens.'

"We took off the three of us through the brush making like sprinters at Mexico City. You could hear the planes coming. So could the NVA and they probably tried to run just as hard as we did the other way. It did them no good. They fried.We could hear the screaming afterwards.

"The ARVIN finally showed up the useless bastards and we got ourselves out at the nearest LZ. What a fuckup that day was.

"I met up with those two Americans again later in Saigon and we got ourselves seriously mao sut that night. Tore into some bars and got ourselves tossed in the brig. Never saw those boys again, though I heard Dutchie deserted in '71 and ended up in Roanapura my old home back in Thailand.

"And that's funny, because here I am in New York City in the USA, the Big Disco Apple doing what needs to be done for the Tongs, and he's sitting in that dead ass town probably fishing on the docks. Nothing ever happens in Roanapura."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Chinatown Daze**

_We're only making plans for Revy,  
We only want what's best for her,  
We're only making plans for Revy,  
Revy just needs this helping hand_

_-- apologies to XTC_

"Bac Gaan, I hear you've found a boom boom girl."

"Hua. Don't believe everything you hear. These stories get better and better."

"Hiding away a young girl in your place. Didn't think you were a pervert - the little school girl type I bet. If she's not for boom boom, is she any good at yum yum? Ah haha ha."

"You've got a foul mouth and mind, boy."

"Yeah Bac I do. It's this fucking city. What's a girl good for? They're good for sex, that's it. A bitch is only worth my time if they get down and stay down. Otherwise you can't trust them. They're trouble, nothing but trouble.

"Then, think about those boys of yours. They're a pack of dogs, they're noisy, they're visible. They walk down the street, everyone knows. They get in a fight, everyone knows. They use those damn guns, everyone knows. But cats are invisible. They hide, and then they strike - and they do their hunting alone."

"Cats and dogs, I get it. Useful for different situations. Why you thinking this way Bac?

"Think about our friends the Italians. The Five Families are a shamble right now because Don Salvatore got himself shot up. And who shot him ?

"The whisper mill says it was Noir. But that's something completely different."

"Is it? Maybe. But I'm going to run the girl down to Newark this Friday and let her have a night out with the Stalkers. If she can't handle it then Stereo Slim can have the girl back and I'm out a lot of pizza. He's up on his protection fees."

"Ooyyy, Bac."

"What Martin?"

"I hate cats."

--

The next day Revy went up the stairwell to the rooftop by herself. Mr. Gaan had left the keys behind for her.

The air was a still and soupy summer smog that smelled of exhaust, the sounds the distant horn and shout of a summer afternoon. She could look down on the concrete and steel canyons, the people moving about below without being involved. Up here on what New Yorkers called the tar beach Revy believed she had found her refuge and let her thoughts drift.

The sound of the steel safety door being slammed and the critch, critch of shoes on the tar paper brought her up in a panic from the corner edge where she had been sitting. She grabbed a loose brick in her hands.

The boy was probably around fifteen. He was dressed in black pants, black canvas shoes and cotton sports coat. He carried a large plastic bag in one hand. He saw her and swaggered towards her.

Revy moved to put one of the skylights that poked up from the roof between them that was as close as she wanted the boy. But there was the issue of him being between the door and her.

"My Aunt got you some stuff," he said and tossed the plastic bag over to her. She let it go by, not taking her eyes off of him. "That old guy you're with asked her," he explained looking her over coolly.

She felt her cheeks go red. Knew what he must be seeing, a thin, tense girl, wearing nothing but a pair of Gann's boxer shorts and an undershirt. After yesterday he had refused to let her borrow another pair of his chinos and work shirts.

"I'm Tony Ngo."

"You can go now," she said, poised to run if need be.

He lit a cigarette, "You wanna fuck?"

"No!"

"I could just do it," he said spreading his arms, as if to take in the rooftop with his reach. "Who's gonna stop me?"

"Just try," she snarled, hefting the brick in her hand.

Tony started laughing, "I'm just kidding. You're too fuckin' skinny anyway."

He walked over to the edge of the rooftop, sat down and started smoking a cigarette, pretending to ignore her.

Kneeling down warily with him in view, she opened the bag and then gasped: Two pairs of black jeans, socks, black canvas sneakers, underwear, for God's sake underwear, a number of t-shirts and other stuff she absolutely needed.

She almost started crying, dismissed the tears with a snap of her head. It had been almost two months since they took everything from her, two months huddled in a ragged blanket and an old man's work clothes.

"I'll let my Aunt know you said thanks. Maybe now you could stop pounding on our ceiling, she really hates that," Tony said dryly.

"Yeah, yeah" she blurted out and ripped off Gaan's undershirt and boxer shorts right then and there. Ngo snorted and almost swallowed his cigarette. She didn't give a crap what he thought or saw she just wanted to wear real clothing now!

There was Chinese lettering on the fronts of the t-shirts. On the back of each was the number 187.

She sat down a good distance from him and laced up the shoes as fast as she could.

"What does it say," she said tracing out the characters on the shirt. "They all look the same."

"It says kick me!" he said. "Here, you want a cigarette?"

"Yeah, but you can throw it over to me."

The moment she picked it up, he started laughing yet again. "Now you're my girl." When she shook her head mystified he explained. "You take a cigarette from me, you're my girlfriend. Don't go looking at other guys now, or I'll have to give you a good beating. You really don't have a clue do you?"

He turned around to face her and she sprung to her feet, but he was speaking earnestly now, "Here it's all about respect, cause people here will disrespect you. They'll look for you to be weak, like that. And if you don't stand up, you're going down, cause they're gonna keep at you. It's not going to be fists, it'll be knives or guns."

"You better figure it out now, cause from what I saw you don't. I was in the lobby the night that dude carried you in. You looked all dead then"

"Well, uhh, ahh shit," she flicked the cigarette back at him. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Tony. "I felt pretty dead. That's me, I'm the dead girl. I'm nobody's girl."

"Hey you know what dead girl?" Tony said, "I hang out up here all the time, it's a good place to do schoolwork (yeah I do it) but I do some cool stuff also. You wanna see something cool?" He stood up, rolled his shoulders. There was a sparkle in his eyes. "Follow me."

Revy trailed behind him, keeping her distance. She could have easily bolted down the stairs as they went across the rooftop, but she was curious. Tony Ngo was the most interesting thing happening after weeks of staring blankly at a television.

On the other side of the roof, he stopped, looked down at the small parking lot tucked below the building. Then he took off the jacket, bent and picked up the end of a rope lying there on the tar, slung the loop across one shoulder and another under his armpit, gripped it tightly in both hands and looked at her with a big smile.

"Ever hear this one?"

_"Hey," Herbie said, "Tony, can you fly?  
But Tony couldn't fly... Tony died!"_

Tony sprinted away from her. He sprang up on the ledge and flung himself off with a whoop.

With an astounded yell, Revy rushed to the side, just in time to see him swing back in an arc like an urban Tarzan and catch the steel railing of the stairwell alongside the tenement building a good fifteen meters below.

"You asshole!" Revy shrieked, jumping up and down. "Get the freakin' hell back up here with that rope! I want to try. It's my turn!"

--

Her first foray out was screwed up.

She went out in the afternoon, when the weekend tourists flooded lower Manhattan in their thousands and she had the misplaced belief there was safety in numbers..

Weaving down the Canal Street sidewalk by the continual traffic jam, past the little stores with their goods spilling out, by the clusters of food vendor carts she turned on to Mott Street and instantly decided that Chinatown stunk.

It really stunk. The press of the crowd people, the heat, the dead fish being sold on the open air markets made her gorge rise in her throat. The sight of one vendor selling live frogs made her lips twitch in disgust.

The fourth of July was a week away, and hundreds of peddlers were out selling fireworks, the hawkers beckoning customers within closed doors to avoid the police.

Revy tagged along with one group and checked out an array of supper snappers, M-80s, blockbusters and Roman candles in what was some kind of social club. She particularly liked the M-80s, and moved closer to look at them.

"Get out," hissed the scrawny vendor lunging at her, "Get out, get out! _chow fah hai!_"

Revy recoiled and exited quickly, but as she went further down the street it became apparent that somehow she was marked. Old women behind counters started shouting when she came near the booths, men would wave her away once they saw her, their eyes flicking across her, their faces blanching.

Revy found herself hunching her shoulders more and more. Each turned head and back made her more unwelcome than she had ever felt. Here in Chinatown, as an Asian the girl should have blended in, but there was no anonymity granted.

She made it as far as the large white building at 41 Mott Street, glanced briefly up at the wooden pagoda roof, and decided enough was enough. Turning, she dodged back up through the crowds, put her head down, alone among all the chaos.

--

Revy went as far up as Delancey Street and out of Chinatown. She made the mistake of going briefly down into the subway, but doubled back, the subway brought back memories of Akihito she didn't want to dwell on.

Hunger drove her into a Burger King and when she saw a half eaten cheeseburger and drink that had been left behind, she had no scruples after a quick glance around to take them for herself. The food situation in Gaan's flat was never good, the man did most of his eating elsewhere.

She sat at one of the middle tables, placing herself where she could quickly get up and bolt if need be. Her caution proved well founded.

Three girls sauntered up to the table and sat down uninvited. They were Hispanic, dressed similarly in baggy pant and cut off t-shirts.

They didn't say anything, just stared at her. The one directly across from Revy was a large girl around sixteen who was chewing gum. The one next to her was a smaller girl with a cold squint. The one who crowded her on the right was a tall thin dark skinned girl with full lips.

"What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Eating," said Revy. No one else was paying attention. There were people at the counter. She put her left hand on the edge of the table, the right curled around the half empty soda.

"No, hoochie," the large girl leaned forward. "What are you doing? Why you here?"

As she spoke, the smaller girl with the squint smiled and affected a yawn – as she moved her hand up something flashed, and Revy realized the girl was flipping a razor with her tongue.

At that Revy flung the soda at the large girl facing her, swung it in an arc so the contents, soda and ice-cubes sprayed both the large girl and the one with the razor-blade. The swing continued and the back of her hand slammed into the thin girl's face.

Driving her feet into the ground she drove herself away from the table and tried to somersault over the next table onto her feet. The move did not work quite as planned and instead fell to the floor, limbs flailing..

There was chaos. Screams arose from the counter and the workers bolted for the back of the the kitchen.

"Oh my fuckin' god, I swallowed the razor, oh shit, oh shit!" the small girl was wailing holding her hand over her mouth, her mouth sliced open, blood dripping down the front of her chest.

The large girl had recovered quickly and sprang on Revy as people bolted for the doors. Before Revy could get to her feet, the girl swung a vicious kick to her head.

"We're going to freakin' kill you bitch!" she stepped forward for another kick as Revy scrambled under the tables to get away.

A group of boys scrambled over the divider between the counter and into the eating area. Two of them tackled the large girl who went down to the ground cursing.

The leader reached down and grabbed Revy by the hair and hauled her off the ground spitting and swinging and slammed her down on a table, thrust his hand violently into her throat so that the web between the thumb and the first finger choked her.

"You know, if I had my gun," he said for her alone, leaning and down and speaking in Revy's ear as she flailed desperately "I'd just kill you and the hell with it. The Soaring Serpents are getting sick of this crap."

"But," and the pressure on her throat relaxed and she was able to breathe, "I know what that says on your shirt. So why don't you break? We'll take care of these bitches. Stay down on Canal or whatever. If the BTK wants a war we'll go, but not today. I'll respect it, for now."

With that he flung her off the table and she fell on the floor again.

Revy got up with difficulty, blood streaming down the side of her face from the kick. The small girl was still wailing and screeching, but at Revy's feet the razor lay on the floor, she picked it up. The girl had not swallowed it.

"What does it say," Revy snarled at the boys who stood watching her. She thrust her finger at her chest, at the Chinese lettering on the shirt. "I don't get it."

The leader's eyes widened and then he started laughing, the kind of laughter meant to cut and ridicule.

"You're property of Martin Sai and the BTK. The 187 means anyone touches you, they die. You're owned."

--

Bac – Uncle (Vietnamese.)

BTK – Born to Kill, or the Canal Boys.

Tony's song: _"For the People Who Died" - copyright Jim Carroll_


	5. Chapter 5

**C****h****apter 5: The Stalkers**

_Shoot to thrill, play to kill,  
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will,  
Shoot to thrill, ready to kill,  
I can't get enough, I can't get the thrill,  
I shoot to thrill, play to kill,  
Pull the trigger._

_Shoot to Thrill - AC/DC_

"Hey _dai low_, your ABC's here."

"Out of the way," Revy hissed. She pushed by the lanky boy at the door.

The floor of the room was strewn with dirty clothes, papers and beer cans. The Ngo's apartment was far more lived in than Gaan's utilitarian layout. Revy stalked towards the couch where the two other boys were watching TV, a John Woo movie playing out on the screen.

"Hey look at you," Tony slurred, looking up as she closed on him, sprawled out in his baggy pants and wife beater a-shirt that prominently displayed the tattoos on his shoulders and arms, baseball hat tipped to the side. He was somewhat drunk. "Now you're starting to look like a g bitch that belongs. Hey Mikey, that's what I'm talking about!"

Revy had converting one pair of the black jeans into cutoffs, and she was wearing a dog collar with two dangling silver AK-47 pendants that she had lifted from a street vendor's display.

"You should'a come down earlier, we've been partying all night, my Aunt's out of town. Hey, guess what? Mikey likes you." Tony said pointing at the lanky boy she had pushed out of the way. Mikey looked embarassed.

Revy didn't bother with a glance, instead stopped in front of Tony; head cocked, swaying slightly from side to side. Then knelt on the couch, straddling the startled Tony, aggressively grinding her hips into his when she settled into contact with him. The other boy on the couch whooped drunkenly.

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. She was all strung out tension wire, her brown eyes large and bloodshot as she brought her face to his. Her breath was acidic and harsh.

"Been partying by myself," she said. She reached up and took off his hat. "You left a bag up on the roof.

"Cool."

"Not really, I was dry puking and gagging all night - and I'm still flyin'a bit," she said throatily as her hand ran through his black shiny hair. She suddenly gripped a handful and pulled his head back. A razor blade flashed in the fingers of her other hand and went to his throat.

"Tell them to get out," she said.

Tony licked his suddenly dry lips. "You heard her, get out!" he shouted. Mikey and the other boy hastily stepped out with some grumbling.

"I picked this up off of some bitch who was mouthing off to me yesterday." she said, referring to the blade held steady at the vein pulsing in his neck, the words spitting out of her. "You know I'd like to know a few things. Because I'm really fucking tired of being jacked about by one and all. So why don't you clue me in?"

"For starters, what the fuck's up with this shirt and what's the BTK?" she said.

"Born to Kill. We're also known as the Canal Boys, the street gang that owns Canal Street" Tony said shakily.

"But you don't own me though, crap. I guess it doesn't say kick me," there was spit flecking her lips. Her arm was shaking from anger so he actually did fear that she would lose control.

"It's a stupid thing, it would have either protected you or got you killed in a hurry depending on what day of the week it was. I guess Martin thought it was funny," Tony said weakly, eyes twitching.

"What fucking day it was? Whose freakin' idea was that?"

"It's Thursday, no, no, no," he said hurriedly, as Revy's eyes widened and the blade twitched in her hand. "Hey, hey, calm down girl. Keep it cool. Those shirts came direct from the anh hai."

"Who the hell's that?"

"Martin Sai's the _Anh Hai_. He's our prince. He's the one who gave us a place in Chinatown - got us the respect we deserve. And with the truce, that.." indicating the Chinese characters, "would keep you safe."

"A fat lot of good they did for me, I almost got my ass handed to me yesterday. He's going to need to show me some respect," she jeered. Revy leaned back, dropped her hands to her side. There was an awkward pause. Tony sighed.

Her eyes wandered over to his tattoos on his shoulders, lingered on twisting serpentine shapes coiled about in circular patterns "I like the tattoos. I like them a lot."

Tony lifted an eyebrow, put his hands behind his head and leaned back shifting his pelvis beneath her "Anything else you want to get a closer look at?"

To his surprise Revy flushed, a deep crimson splashed across her cheeks. She struck him quickly across the chest and before he could react, leaned back even further, arching her back and with one hand extended to the ground did a back flip off of the couch in one quick move, her legs flashing over her head and then onto her feet.

"Oh, that's just cool."

"I gotta go," she said, suddenly awkward.

--

Revy had endured Akihito's death; she had ground herself to the last inch against the physical and mental torment suffered at the hands of Stereo Slim, and for the last few months as she recovered from that abuse had suffered endless amounts of agony trying to determine what Gaan had in store for her.

She suffered no illusions that something eventually would be required of her. But one also does not look directly into the sun to know it's there.

So when the moment came the next day, it broke her absolutely.

"You'll need to start working" Gaan stated without warning as he entered the apartment, Friday morning – he had been absent the last two days.

Revy's head jerked back and her mouth dropped open. the TV control fell from the nerveless hand to the floor. She stood up jerkily and tried walking past him to the door, then stopped limply when the hand came down across the back of her neck and gripped the dog collar.

In that moment she fell into the abyss. Flight had failed her, Akihito had died; fighting had been futile, she was too small and weak. The drug induced bravado she had shown Tony Ngo just yesterday was gone. She had nothing.

"Where do you think you're going?" he said holding her firmly in his grasp.

"Nowhere."

--

Unseeing and unthinking she sat paralyzed in the back of the old Toyota as they drove down the New Jersey turnpike. She was oblivious to the New Jersey marshes and landfills as Gaan went at exactly the speed limit. He talked briefly and of things that meant nothing to the girl.

"Most of my work is for the Hop Sing Tong " he said over the roar of wind in the open windows. "Old _Chut Suk_ likes to have a "coffee boy" to do the dirty work when the Chinese don't want to get their hands dirty. Not only that I have contacts with the Syndicate in Thailand when there's supply issues."

"That gives me a lot of freedom to do as I wish," he chuckled, watching the traffic "_Chut Suk_ would be very unhappy to know that it was I who helped young Martin out of Vietnam. That it was me who has guided him and his boys and made them into a blunt instrument that will shake up Chinatown in time. The heroin trade won't be under their control for much longer, heh, heh."

"Most of these fools won't have anything to do with the _low faan_, ah I forget you don't know your mother tongue. We'll need to work on that. Look around you, here's a _low faan_, there's a _low faan_ – it's all these people in their SUV's." They were stuck at the tollbooth, six cars deep in every direction. "They don't care you exist. You nothing to them"

"But I make plenty of good contacts. I told you about Dutchie didn't I? I haven't told you about Swiss. When we got ambushed back in 'nam he was the Radio Operator who made it out with us from that ambush. And it's Swiss who's interested in you. He runs a little operation outside of Newark. He's got some good work lined up. I told him I would find him the perfect little girl."

Revy twitched.

--

The building was the typical nondescript metal frame along any urban strip. Gaan had to guide the girl who suddenly incapable of direction by herself into the dreary, brown paneled lobby. He sat her down in a chair, surrounded by boxes in a corner where she sat silent, with head cradled in her hands.

"Hey Swiss! It's been a long time. Here's the girl I got for you."

"Gaan, long time no see, how you been these days. What's wrong with her, she looks sick?"

They moved away, their voices becoming indistinct. She was aware of a rhythmic series of flat cracks, but she lacked the interest to look up.

"OK then." Gaan was back, she didn't look up. "Well, have her back by eleven, that's her curfew. We can't have these young one staying out too late. Just won't do."

There was laughter, Gaan's high pitched cackle and then he was gone. Time passed.There was more rhythmic cracks, sometimes single then a rapid staccato. Revy curled up even tighter into herself.

"Hey, you awake?" someone rapped her on the head sharply. "You need anything to drink? A coke? Water?"

She looked up, shook her head. It was one of the largest black men she had ever seen, with a wide set eyes and a flattened nose. Improbably, his braided hair was was dyed in red and blue tones. He was dressed in black paramilitary clothing with a large handgun strapped to his side.

"What's your name?" he said. When she didn't reply he shrugged his wide, muscular shoulders.

"Call me Mutt," he stated. "Swiss hasn't closed down the place yet and it's going to be a couple hours before Jeff gets in and we get started. Can't have you just sitting here. C'mon back."

Revy trailed after him. They went through a door, she looked up and then stopped, rocked back on her heels.

They were in the walkway behind the ports of an indoor shooting range.

"You ever use one of these?" the man who called himself Mutt said. He had picked up a small caliber handgun. "This is a Beretta U22 Neos. A good little plinker, it's got a small handle so it would be good for you. Gaan says you're a gang banger of sorts, so I'm sure you have. Let's see what you got."

Within minutes the shocked girl found herself positioned in one of the ports, wearing an old Aero Pelto Bull's earmuff and a scratched pair of safety glasses and the gun gripped in both hands.

"Safety off, and you can commence shooting when you're ready" said Mutt.

The gun rose up, her hands tight on the grip. She pulled the trigger. The gun barked. She pulled the trigger again and again till the clip was empty.

"Nothing but air," said a disappointed Mutt reeling in the target. Every shot had gone wide.

Revy put the gun carefully down on the ledge, took off the earmuffs. She, paused turned and stared up at Mutt with narrowed eyes.

"What exactly does Swiss do?"

Mutt smiled. "Oh, the boss man. By day he's a mild mannered owner of a shooting range, but by night he's the scourge of the underworld."

"Huh? Superman owns a shooting range?"

"No," he said lighting up a cigarette. "We're bounty hunters. Do you know what that they are?"

And Revy began to laugh. Deep hysterical bursts welling up from inside her thin frame. She sat down hard on the cement floor.

Mutt looked down at her, rubbing his chin.

"Oh you bastards, you complete horrible fucking bastards," the girl cursed in between tears and hiccups. "I thought I was going to be working a glory-hole or something awful. Oh god, I thought my ass was cash."

"Can I keep shooting?"

--

"When you get right down to it," said Swiss reflectively, "All we do is drive around shitty neighborhoods, talk to some of the stupidest bozos imaginable, and hunt down bad guys."

He was a black man, wiry thin with a face sharp as a razor that cut the shadows of the night. However, his eyes sagged with an inner weariness.

"And do you kill them and bring in the bodies for a reward?" the girl said bouncing impatiently in the back seat. "Are you like Colonel Mortimer? He was in that movie with Clint."

He sighed. The child, he couldn't quite believe she was fifteen as mentioned by Gaan, was far more enthusiastic than she had initially appeared to be. It was after midnight but Revy or Rebby or whatever the hell she called herself was totally alert and wide eyed. "No, mostly we just catch them and bring 'em in. That's if we're lucky, most of the time we're just sitting around drinking crappy coffee. Calling ourselves the Stalkers makes us sound badder than we are."

"Now pay attention and stop touching my guns back there," Swiss indicated the apartment building across the street. They were parked in the dark, the street lamps having been shot out. "You know Mutt and Jeff are up the street about two blocks."

"The problem we continually have with these young ones who skip bail is we can't go storming in like Godzilla. We'll be made the second we move. Forty year old dudes in SWAT clothing don't quite fit in"

"Now we know there's a party going on in there," and indeed there was a constant stream of drunk people on the sidewalk in front of the building. "Your job is simple. Go in. Hang out. Stay on the sides and look cute, but don't get tied up talking to anyone in particular. Be smart and focus. You're not there to party, you're going in to iD one gang banger, name of Tommy Li. Here's a photo of what he looks like."

"He's a nasty character," continued Swiss. "So if you see him in there with his posse, just come right back. He's the last person on earth you want to talk to – he likes to slice up girls. If we know he's there, then we'll just wait him out and pick him up when he steps out."

"Got it," she said, getting out of the car.

She was back in twenty minutes, bouncing into the front side passenger seat.

"He's there," she announced excitedly. "But that's not all, he's coming out now."

Swiss dived for the walkie talkie.

--

They followed Tommy Li's car until he stopped at a ramshackle house. Revy was poised and leaning as close to the windshield as she could. Swiss decided that if the passenger side window had been down she would have been leaning out.

"Now what?," she asked excitedly in a high voice

"We wait," he said flatly, parking and turning off the ignition. Mutt and Jeff's pickup truck passed them and went further up the road. "We'll get some rest and then move in around 3 or 4 am. Nobody's expecting shit then. Why don't you get in the back and sleep. You're done for the night. I'm going to step out for a smoke, OK?"

Swiss reached for the door handle and started to open the door, feeling inside his right pocket the crumpled up pack of Marlboro's when out of nowhere a shotgun blast blew out the window. Behind him he heard the girl squeal.

--

ABC: American born Chinese

Anh Hai: a term of endearment and respect for a leader. (Vietnamese)

dai low: big brother. (Vietnamese)

low faan: know nothing outsiders. (Chinese)

Colonel Mortimer: Lee van Cleef's character from "For a Few Dollars More."

Chut Suk – Uncle Seven. (Chinese)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Revy's Summer Vacation**

_Locked and loaded  
Gonna find my truth  
Now I'm busting through  
And hell breaks loose_

_"Hammerhead," copyright the Offspring_

_...Swiss reached for the door handle and started to open the door, feeling inside his right pocket for the crumpled up pack of Marlboro's when out of nowhere a shotgun blast blew out the window. Behind him he heard the girl squeal._

--

As the second shot rocked the land cruiser, Swiss pivoted in the seat. Grabbing the girl with one hand he heaved her back over the the front seats in a tangle of limbs where she tumbled into the back foot-wells.

"Stay down," he thundered as he leaned back awkwardly across the seats and shift console trying to get beneath the window level. He flailed for his shotgun stored under the passenger seat

The attacker kept firing, the blasts rocking the vehicle. Glass shards and pellets sprayed the interior.

Revy hugged the side of the backseat shrieking at the top of her lungs as debris rained down on her. The backseat and foot-wells had piles of equipment and stuff that prevented her from burrowing down even lower, so she was splayed awkwardly across it all.

Her cheek pressed hard against the seat cover, she realized that one of Swiss's handguns, was right in front of her next to one of the containers strewn about the backseat. Without thinking she grabbed for it as if for a lifeline.

The firing stopped, the car alarm kicked in and started wailing. Swiss swore terribly as he fumbled for the shotgun.

The windows had all been blown out on the driver's side, the direction Revy was facing. Heart pounding and adrenalin rushing, the girl scrambled up, one knee on the seat and looked out over the edge of the blown out car door. The man in the road was reloading the shotgun, the barrel down, as he was walked directly towards the vehicle to finish his attack.

Revy brought the gun up in both hands. The gunman looked up and a sudden expression of startlement crossed his face. Through the din of the car alarm she heard his sharp intake of breath. The gunman tried raising the shotgun.

He was too slow. She squeezed the trigger.

Click.

--

The small office nestled in the back of the shooting range was tight. Boxes, mostly open with papers spilling out were stacked up against the wall paneling. The air conditioner struggled in the wall.

Gaan sat down with an attempt at a smile tightening at the corners of his lips. To all appearances nothing more than a short, somewhat paunchy middle aged man of Thai descent with no distinguishing features.

Swiss also sat down. The chair creaked noisily. "First night out with the girl, some jack-off who wasn't even related to Tommy Li, the fugitive we were really after, tears into us - blew my cruiser apart with a shotgun. Seven years I've been doing this and never been shot at. Now any sensible person would stay down and pee their pants. Not this girl, she gets one of my guns and tries shooting back. Showed some real guts."

"And?" said Gaan said tapping his fingers together. It qualified as emotion on his part.

"Safety was on, no clip," said Swiss gravely. "But she distracted the son of a bitch long enough for me to get in the game. I put that damn crack-head on the ground. Guess he thought we were someone else. Mutt and I had a long talk with the cops after that debacle. Sent the kid back with Jeff before they got there. Didn't even want to have to explain that one."

Swiss leaned forward in his chair behind the untidy desk. He poured drinks. Bourbon over ice, no water.

"I was expecting the call much sooner," said Gaan with a dubious look at the drink. He knew better than to ask about the bruises and swollen eye Swiss sported.

The thin black man with the razor sharp features raised his glass. They toasted silently and drank.

"It's been the best six weeks the Stalkers have ever had," said Swiss. "But I need a vacation. Closing up shop and spending some time on the Chesapeake Bay sounds like the way to go."

"It was the girl of course," Swiss continued. "Damn if your idea didn't work, but it's a violation of every child labor law in this country just for starters, Don't think I didn't hear about that from Jeff, he's the new guy. Every goddamn night he'd go off on me about the morality of it all."

"Children in my country are often forced to work as beggars - or at a shrimp factory if they're lucky," said Gaan. "We saw worse back in Saigon."

"Yes, we did. What a place that was."

Swiss emptied his glass. He reached for the bottle for a refill.

"I've seen street kids before," he said shaking his head. "But this one's got a few screws loose. Most of the time she's got a thousand mile stare going on, or she'll curl up in a chair and just go somewhere else. I put up a cot in the supply room, that's where she stayed. She cries in her sleep. Where'd you find her anyway?"

"She was doing a swan dive into the well of night when I caught up with her," said Gaan.

"The word would be abyss." said Swiss absently. He was drinking too fast. "Anyway the only time we can could wring a smile out of the girl is when she'd get on the shooting range with Mutt. And it's not a nice smile. Don't know what's going on there and didn't ask, but I don't think she was in pony-time."

"Don't go all soft on me now Swiss," said Gaan. "Let's hear about it, was she a problem?"

"None," continued Swiss. "At first she was convinced she was going to be a sex slave or somethin' if she screwed up, so if we told her to jump - she'd ask us how high."

"We kept her busy doing chores here at the range when we weren't out running down fugitives. Mutt, the damn fool, took an interest in showing her stuff. Within a couple of weeks she was able to field strip and clean every single type of gun we had: Glocks, Mossbergs, Brownings, Sig Sauer's, didn't matter."

"It got more intense after that first night. All those suspects I've been tracking but haven't been able to nail and take back to the police? It was like a salmon run in Alaska. You were right about one thing, no one pays attention to a kid - well at first – then everything goes to hell with her.

"For example, we were able to flush out a white collar dude with a 500 K bond in the Hamptons, up on Long Island."

"She hid out on the guy's property for two days and figured out when he'd go for a morning run. We all ended chasing that piece of crap and his damn poodle down a rail trail and he's pulling away, damn good runner. Then she goes charging by on a mountain bike. Took it from the guy's garage. Ran him over with the damn thing. And here's the best part, when he tries to get up, she spins the bike around and runs him over again. Broke the guy's leg."

Gaan chuckled, he leaned forward. "OK then, I'll ask. Did she run the bike over you? How did that happen?"

"Ah shit," said Swiss. "I got the black eye two nights ago - we used her as a honey-pot over at a strip club."

"There goes morality. Right out the window and into the fire," said Gaan wryly.

Swiss looked embarrassed. "I know, I know. But I knew the perk had a thing for young Asian girls. When she heard what we had in mind, she went all fetal - took Mutt close to an hour to get her up and moving. Then the Mutt decides she needs some encouragement - so her gives her a whole flask of Southern Comfort without telling me."

"There we are at that bar feeling pretty damn low down dirty." Swiss sighed and shook his head. "Mutt said we we're going to hell for this and I agreed. It was bad. Not only did we have thirteen year old booty shaking her ass up on stage, we're talking spectacularly drunk booty. And she can't dance worth a damn."

"Anyway, she flings herself at the center pole and tries to do some lunatic stunt, couldn't even figure out what she was up to - but on the third swing around, loses her grip and goes flying right into the table of the third rate Mafia wanna-be sicko we're going for and his goon squad. Revy made contact all right, not quite what we had in mind."

"Then all hell breaks loose – one of the goons tries to put a twenty where the sun don't shine, and she goes from little miss promiscuous to screeching hellcat. Picks up a bar stool and lays into the entire lot. The whole place erupts into a brawl like I haven't seen in years. That's where I got this shiner. On the plus side we did get our man."

Gaan's composure broke, he giggled – covering his mouth politely.

--

Revy was upset and slouched in the passenger seat of the Toyota. A sudden growth spurt over the summer in New Jersey had added an inch to her height and put on some much needed weight. Some of it in the right spots.

"I don't want to go back," she whined. "Mutt said I could stay with his family."

Gaan hummed to himself. She muttered indistinctly and sunk deeper into the seat

They were coming up out the final curve of the Holland tunnel into lower Manhattan when he spoke.

"I own the building," he started slowly.

"What?" she didn't understand, wrinkling her brow.

"Didn't you ever notice I never slept there?" he said. "I have a larger place elsewhere. The apartment you're in is usually one the Canal Boys use when they need a safe room."

"Oh," she digested that. "I could have been sleeping in the bed this whole time?"

"Yes," Gaan said.

"Being a middleman for the Hop Sing Tong and their heroin suppliers has been very lucrative," he confided. "So I turned it around and became a New York landlord. Not much of one, but I own a building - or two."

"I like to do the rounds, check up on my tenants, talk to the merchants and see how their shops are doing. Keep my ear to the ground. That way I never have a problem with rent. If I do have problems I mention to Martin and the Boys take care of the problem. If the problems are unique, I take care of it myself."

"Oh," Revy said, and then it came to her, "Oh God no."

"That's right," he said placidly as they continued to drive. "I have several businesses that have to keep up on rent and protection. For example, we have one fellow who runs a business down in my other building that caters to a seriously disturbed clientele. I think you've met him. Blond, blue eyes – likes the young ones we bring over to him."

She slid as far away as possible, pressing up against the car door.

"Now if you had been a disappointment on your little summer trip to New Jersey, a very necessary trip I might add," he said almost happily, " that seems to have done a world of good for you. Smoking crack and getting knocked up or knocked about by Tony Ngo, well that wasn't what I had in mind."

Revy started violently, her eyes darting about as she listened without a sound. Gaan carefully guided the car through the traffic.

"I would have had to place a call and you would be – well returning to Mr. Slim permanently. He still thinks you somehow killed 'Mutha and escaped on your own. After all, why would one expect the landlord? He is very interested in your whereabouts. "

Revy shook her head. She started fumbling at the door. She would fling herself from the car into the oncoming traffic. The door wouldn't open.

"Listen carefully now my little Levy. My boy Martin has a plan, a beautiful plan. One we've spent years preparing. Chinatown is changing and we're the ones who are going to be on top. I'm not sure where you fit in yet, but I think we can work it out."

"It was pretty easy being brave these last six weeks with three large, well armed men backing you up. But I need to know just how brave you are, how willing you are to go all the way, and most importantly whether you will do exactly as I say. So a task."

He turned.

"Life's been pretty rough for you up till now, hasn't it Levy? Don't you want something better?

"Yes," she said.

"Money? Respect? Power?"

"Yes," she said louder. Her right hand let go of the door handle.

"Here's your chance then. You need to do a pickup for me." He pulled into a lot, gestured at the attendant and parked the car. She knew the street, she stuck the tip of her tongue out between her teeth and bit it.

"It's simple really," he said. "Go down to the building. You know which one. Go in, go down the hall and knock on the door at the end of the first floor. I need you to pick up Slim's 'rent.' "

"How can I trust you?" she demanded, her voice cracking.

I know you don't trust me, you watch every move I make. Do I scare you child."

"Yes," softly this time.

"Then get over being scared. This is what is. You'll go in and pick up the money from whomever is there. Or, maybe," he paused for effect, "just maybe Stereo Slim is waiting for you at the door himself."

"Levy, girl?" He appealed to her now, playing on girl's emotions. "Haven't I killed for you?"

She got out of the car. Closed the door.

Took one faltering step up the sidewalk.

Stopped. Looked around for one moment and considered running. Turned and threw a hard stare at Gaan, sitting in the car. He was lighting a cigarette, his head turned purposefully away. Damn him. She hated him and everything at that moment with a blinding passion.

"Fuck it. Fuck you all to motherfucking hell! Bastards!"

Revy threw her head back, cracked her knuckles. Took a deep breath. Brushed her fingers over the hidden gun in her right pocket. A parting gift from Mutt.

Walked forward.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Spaghetti Nightmare**

_You can run on for a long time  
Run on for a long time  
Run on for a long time  
Sooner or later God'll cut you down  
Sooner or later God'll cut you down_

_Go tell that long tongue liar  
Go and tell that midnight rider  
Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter  
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down  
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down_

_Johnny Cash – God's Gonna Cut You Down_

It was Thursday evening. Far In the back of the Oriental Trading Mall on Canal Street was the Pho Khe Sanh Restaurant, a small luncheonette that mostly served pho, the traditional Vietnamese noodle soup. Here, over a dozen gang members of Born to Kill kept court for Martin Sai.

Martin Sai was elegant. He wore a tailored sports jacket over a silk shirt. His slacks were crisp and pressed. He wore fine Italian shoes. Revy blinked, impressed by what she saw. She had never seen anyone who looked so good. He looked like a young up executive. She was in love.

Martin stood up, took off his spectacles with a snap and embraced Gaan heartily. "Bac Gaan, it's good to see you. _ Con am con chua?_ Have you eaten? And you came in the back right? No one saw you?"

"No I haven't to the first, and yes to the second. I am always careful," said Gaan.

Martin raised his be-ringed hand and the owner bustled over. "Take care of Bac will you?"

The two men sat down at the table. Revy bit her lip, she had been left standing. No one had asked her if she was hungry. They had been walking all day throughout Chinatown on his rounds and her feet throbbed. Someone snickered.

"_Chut Suk_ wants a meeting," said Gaan urgently. "He says the situation is getting out of control. It is time for negotiations, or he won't be able to restrain the Soaring Serpents and there will be blood spilt in Chinatown."

"How about the Ghost Shadows and the Green Dragons?" said Martin lazily, lighting up a cigarette. He closed a manila folder that was on the table.

"They are also alarmed." said Gaan. "They have all been caught off guard by what you have done with the Canal Boys. They've always looked down on the Vietnamese immigrants."

"Well that comes to an end," barked Martin slamming his fist on the table. "Over one hundred brothers in arms at my beck and call in New York City alone. If the Soaring Serpents want war, then we'll give it to them. The hell with _Chut Suk_."

"That is an incredibly bad idea," said Gaan. "You must meet with Uncle Seven."

"We should discuss this in private below ," said Martin regaining his composure. There was silence throughout the luncheonette as Born to Kill members pretended to not listen.

"And there is another private matter we should discuss – something that could cause no end of problems for you, Bac Gaan." He tapped the manila folder with his index folder, then sighed.

"But first I suppose we must talk about.. your protege." he finally looked with barely concealed irritation at Revy.

"_Do che de_," Martin Sai muttered, settling back in his chair. He saw a feral looking girl-child with shoulder length black, almost purple hair barely dressed by his standards. Cut off black shorts, matched by a cut-off black t-shirt and some kind of untied military type boots. His frown deepened at the outrageous dog collar around her neck, and there was even a metal stud, a silver star on the side of her nose.

"Oh, no wonder _Chut Suk_ wants to talk, he thinks I've gone insane." said Martin slowly. "You've lost your mind Bac Gaan. This is not what we discussed."

Mr. Gaan looked abashed. Revy felt sick and tried not to move.

"Who are you?" said Martin.

Revy cleared her throat. "I really don't know _Anh Hai_," she said cautiously. "My mother died when I was young I think and I uh, don't really know. I have no idea whom my father was."

"You're not _Viet-Ching_ that's for sure," Martin said, "Probably Fukienese, maybe Han Chinese, You're damn tall though, most of them are midgets compared to you."

"She could be pretty, but... I mean look at her!" cried Martin losing it. "Absolutely no respect! She's been staring at me the whole time! I mean come on, if the idea was to have this silent assassin killer type, I would say you failed Bac! Completely! Holy crap!"

"First she kills that guy over at Slim's place and how the hell she pulled that off is beyond me," Revy blinked, but wisely kept silent. "Then she causes a brawl a few blocks uptown and tell me I didn't hear about that! And then this whole bounty hunter business in New Jersey: Shootings, chases, bars being trashed, police involvement at every turn. Anonymous, my ass! She sticks out like a, like a, well son of a bitch, she sticks out! Can she use a knife?"

"No, but she does follow orders and she's good with guns," said Gaan meekly.

"Oh, that's just fucking great! A gunslinger girl!" Martin shouted, jumping to his feet and scattering the folders off the table. "Look, when I want someone dead, I give a gun to one of my men and they walk up to the asshole and BAM! They're dead. I don't have to contract out to the Soldats to get things done! There's no skill involved. Bac, Bac, I love you and I apologize for this display, but honestly..."

"_Anh Hai_, please," said Revy. She was fighting hard to be polite and failing. "About those shirts you gave me; they were like fire hydrants. Dogs piss on fire hydrants. Those girls attacked me."

Martin Sai glared at her. Mr Gaan tapped his fingers together rapidly. The room was a freeze frame of action figures as gang members strove to look occupied with anything else possible.

Desperate for anything, Revy knelt down to pick up the fallen folders for Martin. To her horror, paper spilled out of one. Papers with official looking stamps that said NYPD, and Confidential in bright red colors.

"Goddamn it, stay away from that," snarled Martin bending down hastily and pushing her aside. "Bac, I'll find something for your lunatic girl where she won't cause any trouble. Maybe I can convince someone to take her up in a clothing shop. We're done."

Revy lurched forward, a plaintive cry springing unbidden to her lips. "Give me a chance Mr. Sai! How can I prove myself if you won't give me a chance?"

"Go home Levy," said Mr. Gaan curtly. He waved her aside.

--

"Rebecca" stated Sergeant Antonucci flatly. He took her by the arm.

"No!" she said, tried to pull her arm free, but his fingers dug into her flesh. He guided her with no effort at all down the stairs despite her struggles. The door closed with the sound of finality.

"We knew you'd return," he said leaning close to her. "It was just a matter of time. Everything comes back to the beginning."

"Let go, let me go," Revy leaned back. Her splayed feet left a wake of sand behind. The heat was furnace hot.

"Lights! Camera! Action!" the Sergeant said blinking like a snake. He wore his police uniform. He straightened his cap "You'll be the main attraction in Hollywood. Be sure to scream and beg this time for us please. But do it quietly so Aki doesn't hear."

"I have a gun," she said and put the barrel against his ribs and pulled the trigger. Click, click, click.

He looped a cable around her wrists, she winced and buckled at the knees as it cut into her flesh. "Don't be silly girl. That's just a fruit pie."

She was naked. He threw her to the sand. The Sergeant had looped the cable to the base of a toilet. There was only the toilet among the burning sands of the desert. Lightning flickered in the air, the repetitive snap of thunder.

"Blood, blood, why is there blood in the bowl?" said Antonucci glancing down at the toilet. Shrugged. He held a pillow in one hand, a camera in the other "Rebecca, stop making so much noise, the boy will hear us."

He bent over her body, bruises and welts rising to the surface of her skin, cuts bursting open. The pillow dripped feathers, he placed it over her face and tried to push it down her throat.

Revy couldn't fight back. She was burning, she was suffocating.

The pressure stopped, the Sergeant stood up lifting the pillow off. There was fear on his face. "Goodbye Rebecca, I have to go. They're coming for you. Can't you hear them? Can't you see them?" He stepped into the toilet bowl with both feet, blood sloshed out on her. He flushed the handle frantically. "Geez, I gotta go..."

There were feathers in her cracked, torn lips. She spit them out, turned her head to see what was coming.

The midnight riders crowded the horizon; The plain broke like a jar under the hooves of their horses. Four tall shadowed men rode at the fore through the shimmering heat. Their eyes flickered like fading coals.

They reined up in front of her, the hooves of the horses dashing close as she curled up.

The Man with no Name bent forward in his saddle. He rode a pale horse. His voice dripped contempt as he flicked the stub of a cheroot her way. "The way I figure, there's really not too much future with a sawed-off runt like you."

Frank Miller laughed. He rode a white horse. "He's not far behind us brat. Won't be long now. High noon's a comin'."

The older man, Pike Bishop on the red horse held up his hand, "Hold on now. What I don't know about I sure as hell am gonna learn."

He looked down slowly at her from under the brim of his hat. "Do you feel it kid? It's a sickness in the gut . . . It's ugly, brutalizing, and awful. How you going to play it kid?"

"I don't know." she earnestly.

"Shit. It's the bottom of the ninth inning, there's two outs and the bases are loaded." Pike shrugged then pointed to the Man in Black. "He wants to know Revy, are you gonna be bad?"

She twisted on the ground to look at the Man in Black. She froze. His teeth were tombstones and his eyes pits. Lightning cracked behind him in the featureless sky.

He picked her up from the ground and held her close. His hands were those of a lover, caressing her flesh.

"I like the way you smell," he said close to her, the voice like dirt falling from the spade, the tongue a coil of worms flicking by her ear. "You smell like blood and gunpowder, like a corpse decaying in a ditch."

"I don't care about that sir. I do want to be bad sir," she stammered, limp in his arms.

"Ride with us," the Man in Black murmured. "Ride with us into the fire then. You're one of us."

The Gortch brothers broke from the crowd leading a pony. Revy stiffened in his grasp.

"A pony, I get a pony?" She pushed against his skeletal chest and tumbled to the ground. "No way. You've gotta be kidding? What am I supposed to do, tag along in the rear?"

"You gotta start somewhere," sneered Frank Miller. The Man in Black shrugged and took up the reins of the black horse.

"Wait no," she shrieked as they streamed past her in a wave of shadows. "I'll take the pony. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me!"

"Every gun makes its own tune," said the Man with no Name with a tip of the hat. And they were gone in the heat shimmer.

"Come back, come back," she wailed in frustration. "It's his turn. Oh stinking God, it's his turn."

Sure enough Stereo Slim was thundering down from the sky, his blond hair streaming behind. He held a radio antenna in his hand like a comic book god and cracked it loudly about.

"Hey REBECCA!" he bawled. "Let's play!"

--

Revy awoke in the grey of twilight. It was Friday morning.

She stood up shivering. It wasn't cold.

She went to the closet of the bathroom. Came back to the bed.

Under the bed was a small nylon bag with her meager possessions. She pulled it out: The razor blade from Burger King. A package of M-80s stolen from a Mott Street vendor. The Baby Browning .25 ACP with a box of GECO (RWS) ammo. She picked up the gun.

It would do.

"I want to be bad," she said to the Man in Black.

**Next: Just Can't Let it Go**

--

The Midnight Riders,

High Noon – Frank Miller is a bad, bad man.

A Fistful of Dollars – it's Clint. 'nuff said.

The Wild Bunch – if you don't know the Wild Bunch, why are you reading this? In episode eleven of the Black Lagoon anime, there is a prominently placed poster in Revy's incredibly messy room. Is it a coincidence that Dutch is named Dutch?

Shane – Jack Wilson (Jack Palance) is the Man in Black. The archetype. Frank Miller licks his boots. Clint steps aside and the Wild Bunch would follow him to hell -- and stay there to party.

I apologize for the re-editing. This is a work in progress. I went back and tightened up the story.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Never Just Let it Go**

_Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!  
Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!  
Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!  
Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!  
_

"_Killing in the Name," lyrics by Rage Against the Machine_

_In our world, ya never just let it go. - Revy_

It's a popgun," Revy said dubiously to Mutt, holding up the Baby Browning. "After I shoot it should I throw it? Along with a rock? Why not one of those Beretta's?"

Mutt rumbled, his version of a laugh. "Personally I'd give ya an S&W, the Beretta ain't worth spit in a tornado. Anyway, that's the best I can do for you."

"Don't knock the .25 though," he continued. "Shoot it right and the bullet will bounce around inside the ribcage like a pinball. Best of all the gun's easy to hide. Here, take these with you, they're GECO brand ammo; Nickel-silver jackets and the primers reliable."

"I'd rather have the Fiochi hard ball," she said, rummaging enthusiastically through the boxes. "I thought it had better penetration?"

"One summer with us and you talk like a professional. You like that Italian stuff, don't cha?"

--

Friday morning. 5:30 am.

There was no need for further thought or reflection, it wasn't in the girl's nature. The decision had been made. Action mattered. If she was of no use to them, then she would do what she had to do.

The small backpack filled rapidly. A few necessaries such as a brush, tampons, a tooth brush. What little clothing she had that couldn't be worn. Revy started to put on the dog collar, but then shoved it hastily into a side-pouch. The collar would be a liability if it came to close combat.

She hunched over the Browning, her brown eyes intense as drew the slide back and checked to make sure it was unloaded. She removed the magazine and carefully, almost delicately filled the magazine to capacity with six rounds. Satisfied she replaced it, engaged the safety and stuck the small gun in her right pocket. She found matches in the kitchenette, stuck them in the left pocket with the razor blade. The M-80's were zipped up last.

Finally she coated her face with a layer of Vaseline, pulled her shoulder length hair back and put on a baseball hat.

She spun out of the apartment without a glance. Gaan had disappeared again; that simplified everything. She took the stairs two to three steps at a time, four flights in all and burst out onto Canal Street. She stood under the blue awning of the building storefront. The door closed shut behind.

Revy considered dropping the apartment keys on the sidewalk. With a shrug and without further thought put them in her back-pocket. She went east at a trot.

--

Friday morning. 7:00 am

It was the same lot where Gaan had dropped her off a week ago to do what she now thought of as the walk of hell. That moment had been anticlimactic; a man had slipped her an envelope through the crack at the mention of Gaan's name and then slammed the door shut. The girl had been left leaning against a wall in in a darkened hallway with her heart threatening to blow out of her chest, bile rising in her throat.

She crouched now to avoid being seen by the lot attendants. She circled in a kind of duck walk the tricked out black Pontiac Trans Am parked in the open lot at Ludlowe off of Delancey Street. The morning traffic from the Williamsburg Bridge was beginning to build with commuter traffic, but this area existed in it's own pocket of silence. The buildings were run down and old, no sign of encroaching gentrification.

The fuel door on the Trans Am wasn't on the left side. Nor was it on the right. She bit her lip in vexation, kicked at the vanity plate in the back. It said SLIM.

There was nothing she could throw through the car windows, such as a fragment of curbing. She settled for letting the air out of the tires and keying the side doors, cursing under her breath. She had meant to blow up the fuel tank with the M-80s, but that didn't appear possible. Her resolve was starting to falter, her adolescent fantasy not holding up in the morning bleakness. It started to drizzle.

Revy slipped past the lot shed, headed back up the sidewalk towards Delancey and the building. She decided upon the direct approach. See if she could get in Slim's lair and start shooting.

Someone walking down the sidewalk towards her. They would meet at the entrance to the building. With an overwhelming rush of hatred she realized it was Nicole.

_"I'm going now," said Rebecca and flung herself towards the door. Slim and 'Mutha had been waiting, smiling like hyenas, and they took her down hard._

_"Help me, Goddammit, help me!" she screamed at Nicole and the other girls as the men picked her up, kicking and flailing. They all looked away, except for Nicole. Nicole who had found Rebecca cowering behind a dumpster, sick and starving. Nicole who had lured her to Stereo Slim's place with the promise of safety and food._

_A smirk cracked Nicole's lips._

_"Help yourself."_

Nicole was staggering wearily along in her high heels, reaching down with one hand to adjust a very short skirt. Slim had arranged for her to work an all night binge at a private party. She was soiled and wearied, and looking down at the pavement. She carried a tray of still steaming coffee cups, a way to curry favor with her pimp before she settled down to sleep the day away. She stepped up on the first step of the stoop. Started turning in alarm as she became aware of the blur of motion coming from behind.

Revy leaped, the heels of both her boots driving into the back of Nicole's trailing leg, at the back of the knee. She rode the woman down into the steps of the stoop.

Nicole made a dull whumph as her body impacted with the steps. The coffee tray flew in a shallow arc and burst on the landing..

The razor blade flashed in Revy's hand. Nicole felt a stinging swipe across her face as she tried to draw in a breath to scream. Another swipe. Blood sprayed. Nicole tried desperately to throw the attacker off.

Revy lost her grip on the razor. She grabbed Nicole's lank hair in both hands and started slamming the woman's head into the concrete.

--

Friday afternoon: 3 pm

Mike spotted Revy instantly when he stepped into the McDonald's at 262 Canal Street to get out of the rain. The girl was sitting in a corner with a vacant expression, one foot swinging slowly beneath the table. Her shirt was torn and stained, the burnt out stub of a cigarette dangled from her mouth.

The tall _Viet-Chinh_ boy on a sudden thought ordered two sodas at the counter and walked over to the corner.

"Hey, it's Rebecca right?" he said sitting at the next table. "I haven't seen you since Tony's place, back, oh what end of June?"

Revy didn't acknowledge the boy's presence. Mike put a soda down in front of her.

"Tony's kicking it in tonight on the rooftop of your building if the rain stops," he informed her. "You gonna be there for the party? He wants me to drop by, keeps wanting me to join the crew. I'm not into that stuff though."

"Who the fuck are you?" she said looking up, her eyes empty.

"I'm Nguyen Phuc, but everybody calls me Mikey around here," he said mildly hurt. "I used to hang out with Tony, but he's dropped out of school. Says he's a Canal Boy now. It's too bad, he's a smart guy. He could have gotten accepted at the school I'm going to now uptown. In fact, my parents are moving this week. Dad's got a..."

"Mike," she said flatly, turning in her chair towards him, "That's all really stupid. I don't care."

She flicked the cigarette butt on the floor as he stammered.

"When are your parent's getting home?" she demanded.

"Later, sometime after seven."

"I think," she said recklessly, grabbing his arm hard. "We should check your place out right now."

"Hey ya, what?"

"I'll tell you what," she said her voice dropping to a growl, her fingernails digging into his flesh. "I think you're about to get luckier than Tony Ngo''s ever dreamed of getting when he wanks off. You like gymnastics?"

"Yeah, I..."

"Let's go."

But Mike didn't get lucky. Stepping out of his parent's kitchen into the living room with a can of Pringles, he found Revy sprawled face down on the couch snoring loudly. One leg was curled up underneath elevating her rear end. Mike blinked. The cut-offs had ridden up, he had quite a view.

"Geez," he stepped back and sat down at the table. He ate a potato chip slowly.

--

Friday night: 7:15 pm

"You didn't try anything? Are you gay?" she demanded.

"No!"

"You know, you're a nice guy," she said frantically, standing up. "but I really gotta go, I'm sort of in trouble. Why don't you give me that new address, OK? And I'll see ya later. If there's a later freakin' later going on for me that is."

"Are you in trouble?" he said gallantly. "I'm coming with you."

"Pffah, Don't be a shithead." she grabbed the paper he had written the address on, stuffed it in a back-pocket and bolted for the door. "Later baby."

"But..." the door slammed. He scratched his nose, "Whatta tease... hey, you forgot your backpack!"

--

Saturday morning: 1:00 am

The cars slid by, headlights bright. The street lights had been shot out, but there was plenty of activity with this street favored by streetwalkers and drug dealers.

Revy had made her approach from Hester Street. Scanning the area carefully, unsure of what she would find. Whatever had been done with Nicole, carted off to the emergency room or whatever had long been resolved.

Loitering unnoticed in the alleyway across from the building was easier than she would have thought. The prostitutes who bolted into the shadows whenever a police car slowly cruised by weren't much older than Revy and paid no attention. If a pimp or someone else came by she drifted further back into the darkness.

She waited for hours, her fingers began to bleed from where she had chewed the nails down to the skin.

Finally. There was Stereo Slim, trailed by three others on the sidewalk. She could hear him shouting at his posse. He was waving his muscular arms as he walked, bouncing in the air with each stride he took. A large blond haired man with an open shirt and tight jeans. The group stopped across from the alleyway.

The gun was ready in her right hand. The safety was off. She took a deep breath.

Revy burst out of the alleyway, arced around a parked car into the street, darted rapidly towards the group.

"Gun, gun!" a prostitute screamed. The men in Slim's group started running in all directions in a panic. Slim whipped his head around, holding his ground. He grinned stupidly, not comprehending the situation.

Revy brought the gun up, then tripped on the curb. Two stumbling steps with arms flailing. She fell at Stereo Slim's feet, tearing the skin off her forearms upon contact. The Browning skittered across the sidewalk.

Slim didn't move. He looked down at Revy.

"Hi?" Revy said weakly. Her voice came out unnaturally.

Stereo Slim blinked twice, there was no trace of recognition on his face. Then his face became a mask of fury. "You! You're that stinking little twat! You fuckin' keyed my car!"

"Among other things, hey it's been real," she gasped. She spun up on her heels and bolted. He lunged forward.

Stereo's hands were on her back. She turned and threw herself in front of an oncoming car in the road, the horn blared and tires screeched. She rolled up and burst out of the way, the car fender missing by inches. Stereo Slim bounced onto the hood, shouting in pain.

"I'm going to freaking kill you!" he shouted as she sprinted away. "I'm going to cut you open and squeeze out what's in your guts..."

She was running too hard to hear more.

--

Tears of frustration coursed down Revy's cheeks.

"Oh crap, double crap. Shit!" She cradled her bleeding arms. Only now did she realize that the backpack had been left behind at Mike's apartment. She cut through the thinning throngs of Friday night bar hoppers. Revy had no idea what to do next except head west along Canal.

A group of drunken young women came spilling out of the Octopus Delight restaurant, laughing wildly in a frenzy of good humor. They swirled around Revy without the slightest hint of attention.

"Oh Giona," squealed a short fat one to a tall, attractive blond who was in the center of her own universe, "that was just the crunchiest Chinatown thing EVER! I'm glad you stuck this weekend out before going back to Georgetown. We won't EVER see you again."

Revy hunched her shoulders. These people were idiots.

"It's not like I'm joining the church you know," slurred the blond. "But I AM thinking about staying in the DC area. Daddy dearest has such good contacts at Langley I thought..."

Tires squealed, a taxi came to a shuddering halt in the road and Stereo Slim hopped out. "I see you bitch!"

Revy hissed. She burst into a run, and shouldered aside the tall blond who weaved confusedly in front of her. To the shrieks of the friends the young woman fell head over heels.

"Dammit!" wailed Giona "Eda" Jones staggering to her feet and hopping about. "That brat broke the heel on my Missoni's!"

--

At first Revy pulled away, but Slim kept after her with a powerful gallop and slowly closed the gap.

Lungs burning and legs starting to tighten, she cut across the road into traffic, cut back again. Dodging and twisting past closed storefronts and late night foot traffic. People cursing and shouting to no effect. No police cruisers were visible in any direction.

The girl had meant to never go back to the apartment, but it was the only option left. Reached the awning of the storefront she fumbled for the keys. Tried the wrong key, got the right one, turned the key in the lock and threw open the door. She was out of time.

A powerful hand gripped the back of her neck, spun her about.

"Gotcha!" Slim said panting, lifting the struggling girl effortlessly up against the wall. Revy turned her head at the last moment and the blow meant to put her down crashed into the brick facing instead. Revy heard the knuckles crack. Slim howled and let go, stepping back and clutching at the injured hand.

It was a reprieve. Revy stumbled into the landing and started up the stairwell. She was up only one flight when the footsteps started again in pursuit.

At the fourth landing Revy realize with a desperate whine that the keys were still in the lock of the entrance door.

"_Tony's kicking it in tonight on the rooftop of your building if the rain stops," Mikey informed her. "You gonna be there for the party?"_

Tony Ngo was her last possible choice, but there was safety in numbers and maybe the Canal Boys would cover for her. It would all depend on whether the rooftop door was unlocked. Otherwise Slim would pull her down like a hunted animal and it would all be over.

Revy struggled up three more flights with her pursuer thundering closer with each step. The door was open to the roof! She ran out expecting to find a party in full swing and stopped, looking about wildly.

The rooftop was empty.

"Where the fuck are you idiots?!" she shrieked.

_--_

Revy moved along the side, using the lip as a cover. Her choice of direction had been poor, she had run wildly to the front of the building and then realized that she should have made for the fire stairs in back.

Slim stood by the doorway breathing heavily and bent over. She could see his bulky silhouette outlined against the Manhattan lights. Then he straightened and took something whip-like out of his jacket and extended it with a swish with his uninjured hand, the eponymous stereo antenna he favored for special punishments for his stable of whores.

"Are you pondering what I'm pondering?" he bellowed. "Absolutely no one saw or heard us come up here, you little bitch! It's playtime!"

Revy kept moving, cutting her knees on the tar-paper, she rounded the corner and started along the back towards the fire stairs on the opposite end.

"I see you!" Stereo sounded positively gleeful. He bounded towards the fire-stairs cutting off her escape. He stopped and crossed his arms. "You never struck me as the bookworm type. Did you ever read the Little Prince? It was written by a French dude. One phrase of his is just so righteous: "the torment of hope." That's what you got right now."

Revy crouched, breathing shallowly, eyes slitted, wishing he'd just shut up. She reached out her hand and found the rope.

_On the other side of the roof, Tony Ngo stopped, looked down at the small parking lot tucked below the building. Then he took off the jacket, bent and picked up the end of a rope lying there on the tar, slung the loop across one shoulder and another under his armpit, gripped it tightly in both hands and looked at her with a big smile._

"As I see it you have two choices: One, discover the joys of terminal velocity. Two, get your scrawny little ass over here and we'll go back to my special cellar. "

Slim stopped, took a breath and here held up his hands like he was framing Revy for a shot, "Let's like film a kick-ass bondage snuff film with you our special star. I'm sure when Nicole wakes from that coma you put her in and gets her ass out of the hospital she'll love to do something special. Something to honor my poor friend 'Mutha."

He snapped the whip in the air for emphasis.

Revy slung the loop across one shoulder and another under the armpit as Tony had done a few months ago. The shadows hid her actions, she hoped the rope was still attached to something and hadn't been frayed to the point of breaking.

Revy stood up.

"You talk too much," she said and flipped the length of the rope over the side, hiding the motion by leaping up on the edge.

"She chooses curtain number one!" Stereo Slim shouted and stepped ponderously towards her swinging his makeshift metal whip.

Revy lurched back from him as if in terror and slipped. She fell painfully on the raised concrete lip, legs hanging over the edge. Her hands scrabbled on the wet tar paper for a hold.

"Buh-bye," sneered Stereo Slim raising a boot. He placed it on Revy's face and pushed, she felt her nose flatten against the ridges of the sole.

As Revy slid back, she coiled her legs up against her torso. With both hands Revy grabbed his calf and pulled. She snapped her head back and leaned into air, kicking as hard as possible against the side of the building, pushing away vertically.

It wasn't pretty. Slim lurched and did a split, one leg sliding on the tar paper of the roof, Revy holding doggedly onto the other with all her strength. Stereo Slim came down painfully on the lip with a startled yelp. Then, unable to fight momentum he toppled over the edge. They fell together. Revy released his leg. He went past her, a tuft of her hair in his grasping hand.

The rope tightened and Revy slammed hard into the side of the building.

There was a liquid splat, like the flat of a hand hitting a puddle. She closed her eyes.

Revy was too tired to do anything, she didn't have the strength to pull herself back to the roof. She looked up at a row of heads outlined against the shimmer of the city sky, looking down at where she was swinging like a rag doll.

"Whoa," said Tony Ngo.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: A Depraved Girl**

_Now that the smokes gone_  
_And the air is all clear  
Those who were right there  
Got a new kind of fear._

_- "Hey Man, Nice Shot," copyright by Filter  
_

_"Outsiders that crawled from the filth in some back alley. They usually go down quickly in a blaze of glory...spreading disaster wherever they went." - Dutch_

The Oriental Trading Mall had been closed down early at Martin's command, the Pho Khe Sanh restaurant was his office for the duration. It was Sunday evening.

"The first shipments of heroin are due to arrive in Roanapur," said Martin Sai, poking at his bowl of _pho_. "We have effectively cut out the Triads. There will be repercussions. They will move against us using proxies such as the Soaring Serpents. It won't be much at first, a probe to see what we are capable of doing. We will have to respond ruthlessly at the first provocation."

Gaan was silent.

"Ahh, the girl Rebecca." said Martin Sai, changing topic "I have taken care of that matter. Your Anglo, that _low faan_ cock of the walk pimp was about to make a deal with the NYPD according to my informants and had to be removed anyway."

He tapped the top folder on the table. The one Revy had inadvertently picked up

"It doesn't matter," said Gaan with repressed fury. "I admit my mistake. It was a foolish idea. I will take her to the East River and gut her. She will sink to the bottom and it is done."

"But she has done you a favor," said Martin mildly.

"We had not planned on having him die, in such a visible manner!" hissed Gaan, eyes bulging. "From the top of my building. It is a disaster! The police have asked for me! What am I to do?"

"I will arrange for the lawyers to settle the matter. You were at a mah-jong game on Mott Street the entire evening," said Martin calmly. "We have witnesses. I've already confirmed that the police are looking for a small Asian, probably a young male. As you so wisely discerned, she can kill in plain sight. It is interesting."

"Eh," said Gaan glumly.

"She is no longer your concern," Martin said slurping his noodles. "The situation has changed. Where is she now?"

Gaan pointed in the direction of the restaurant kitchen. "She wasn't cooperative. They had to lock her in the walk in refrigerator to cool off."

"Oh," Martin wiped his hands. "Well then. Bring her here."

--

The slim brunette in the bikini top and wraparound sarong was surprised.

"_Qui est la salope? Est-elle un cadeau pour moi?"_Asked Noelle. "Who's the trash? Is she a gift for me?"

"_Non, mon cher_," said Martin taking his coat off and tossing it in an armchair. _"Qu'est-ce qui fait être utilisés et jetés. Au fil du temps..._ No, my dear. Something to be used and discarded. In time..."

Noelle waved a brochure at him, "Anyway, I talked with our friends and they are interested in our offer for that place in Puerto Banus. Should I take a flight over?"

"Arrange it and stay awhile in Spain, enjoy the beaches" said Martin. "The triads are about to discover what I have done and it would be best if you weren't in the U.S. It will be a bloody mess and most of these silly children think it's all about turf and respect in Chinatown."

Noelle pouted, wrapped her arms around him and rolled her head in the direction of the girl. "So am I to be replaced by some underage _pute_? _Tu as bu, ou quoi_ ?"

"_Non_ to the first_, _but I would like to be regarding the second. Do we have any of the Moet, my little French Connection?"

"One moment," Noelle glided away, Revy came rushing back through the door, her eyes glowing.

"You have a pool? Can I?" she asked eagerly. She was exhausted from her ordeal over the last day and night, but knew an opportunity when she saw one.

"Go," Sai waved his hand, she whooped and bolted leaving a trail of clothing in her wake. Martin rolled his eyes

An hour later, one of those last summer nights that persisted in early September, the stars spread across the Hudson Valley sky, Noelle and Martin talked and drank while paying half attention to the girl's antics in the pool. They spoke softly and in French.

"It is a common device," explained Martin, "you pick someone out of the gutter, give them a taste of what life can be and a little respect and they will eat shit for you."

"Such an indelicate way of saying it," Noelle frowned, she ran her hand down his thigh. "Of what possible use can she be? You have plenty of men who are willing to be gunslingers, _non_?"

"She kills," said Martin. Noelle cocked her head. Martin continued. "It appears she has a certain destructive flair that I would put to use. Those old fools in Chinatown like _Chut Suk_ will be terrified. A killer girl is not something they would expect."

"How long will she last?" Noelle asked.

"Not long, she'll either be in jail or dead in three months. Expendable, _mon cher_"

"Oh," said Noelle. She licked her lips, "Then it doesn't matter if I seduce her?"

"She'll probably hit you," said Martin wryly. "You've been warned."

--

Revy was in agony. Her head pounded and her stomach churned with each curve of the Taconic Parkway as they headed back towards the city. The Porsche purred along.

"You will not talk to me at all unless I speak to you," Martin instructed. "From now on you will not speak to anyone all unless I allow it - especially members of Born to Kill. Not one. You will stay behind me at ten paces when I'm on the streets, but I expect you to be watching at all times like your bounty hunter friends taught you. You will be on guard at all times."

He paused, passed a string of cars easily. Revy tried to hide a queasy burp.

"I had Huong Tran check the inventory in the storeroom at the house," Martin continued. "What you asked for we had. Open the box at your feet."

It was a shoe-box, she reached down and opened the cardboard lid. Caught her breath.

"They look like cannons to me. If you can use them they'll do," said Martin lighting a cigarette. "You'll have to wear a jacket to hide the damn things, but the weather's getting cooler. What are they by the way?"

"Beretta 92F's" said Revy reverently. She gripped them both tight.

Oh, and another thing."

"Yes sir," said Revy flinching.

"You were very drunk last night. Therefore I will overlook the fact you punched Noelle. I had expected such behavior from you and found it rather amusing... however," he looked at her darkly.

"If you screw up even the slightest bit from here on in, you blink the wrong way again without me telling how to blink," said Martin coldly, "I'll make sure those guns will be the last things you'll ever see."

--

The next few weeks would have been unbearable except for the fact she had free run of Martin's estate. A barn had been set up as an indoor shooting range for Born to Kill members to practice and she spent all her evenings shooting when she wasn't swimming in the pool. She discovered quickly that she could shoot with both guns simultaneously. The obnoxious Noelle had vanished and Revy did not ask.

During the days she shadowed Martin Sai as ordered in the city. He was surrounded by gang members whenever he went through the streets. She spent hours seated in the Pho Khe Sanh restaurant, seated in a darkened corner, a pile of cigarette stubs growing beneath her table.

The gang members who hung out there during the day were ignored her presence after the first initial stares. Gaan ignored her with an indifference that stung. Tony Ngo waved and slipped her a joint for which he was sharply rebuked by Martin. She smoked the joint later in the bathroom. A feeling of uselessness started to creep into her psyche.

One day she had finally run out of ways to spin a cigarette around the table top. Her imagination had failed her; the dreamscape with the Man in Black had become stale and she had been staring at the crumpled piece of paper with Mike's address for close to half an hour. She had long ago lost interest in the ongoing discussions with the constant parade of strangers who spoke with Martin throughout the day

Martin suddenly stood up. There was a commotion. Revy raised her eyes

He beckoned, she followed Martin out of the restaurant into the mall towards the entrance.

Outside the entrance there was a group of men. There was shouting. She stopped in the entryway as Martin stepped outside. Three members of the Soaring Serpents were faced off against a similar number of Canal Boys.

Martin joined the fray. She couldn't hear anything, but she could see the mouths moving, the tightness in the eyes. Revy tensed, crossed her arms so her hands slid inside her black cotton jacket to the Berettas. She had spent some time customizing a pair of shoulder holsters to what felt right for her.

Nothing appeared to be happening. One of the Soaring Serpents stepped back. Revy sighed, puffed easily on her cigarette. Rolled it between her lips.

Suddenly one of the Soaring Serpents, a boy perhaps fifteen spit at Martin's feet.

"Oh shit," the cigarette fell to the ground. Revy rolled up on her toes, the adrenalin began to pump.

Martin turned abruptly and stormed back into the mall entrance where Revy was standing.

"Revy," snarled Martin Sai to Revy as he walked by. " Kill those motherfuckers NOW. Go to the back of the mall when it's done. I'll have the car ready."

It was four o'clock in the afternoon. Traffic was backed up along Canal Street as far as the eye could see. There were dozens of pedestrians all along the sidewalk, vendors milling about and open storefronts. Revy took a deep breath.

She kicked the glass doors of the mall entryway open. The Berettas were in her hands. She raised them both in time with the steps taken. Only one of the men looked up, a look of astonishment crossed his face.

Revy fired two shots at him, he spun around. His face dissolved in a spray of blood.

Screams. The other two fled in different directions.

Revy dropped to one knee, crossed her arms for a stable firing platform. The Berettas roared. Neither one of the Soaring Serpents had gotten more than ten yards away. The one to her right dropped instantly with a choked shout, a bullet through his lungs.

The one on her left staggered and kept running. She fired again and the boy bounced off the pavement, dead.

Revy stood up, moved rapidly upon the crawling boy on her right. He was gasping for breath, probably seventeen. His black hair black had been slicked back. He wore a leather jacket.

"Please!" he begged.

Revy shot him in the head.

--

There was a chill in the air along Canal Street. Stores closed early and merchants pulled down the metal fronts. The police were frustrated. Not one person had witnessed the murders done in broad daylight. The victims lay contorted in congealed pools of blood, until taken away.

The vendors talked excitedly among themselves beyond the hearing of the police. It had been the depraved demon girl who walked behind Martin Sai, the _yin wa_, who with a smile on her lips and a fire burning in her eyes had cut down the three gangsters.

Nothing like this had ever happened before in Chinatown.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:** **Funeral Bloodbath**

_Have no prayer  
So, I keep the gun with me  
I'll do it with no sweat  
They mean business  
No time for sissy pig_

_"Red Faction," copyright by Mel_

"So they had me with this family in L.A. and..." Revy began.

Mike interrupted. "Los Angeles, how'd you get here?"

"No, no, no," she said impatiently. "Lewiston-Auburn. Up in Maine. Anyway this couple had about ten of us foster kids, kept most of us in the garage. It was total crap. So I burnt down their garage after a week."

They had met at an agreed upon spot. The crest of the Cedar Hill meadow in Central Park. It was late Saturday afternoon on a warm autumn day. The leaves were falling from the elms. They had been awkwardly silent most of the hour sitting on the blanket together.

"You're pulling my leg aren't you? How old were you?" he said laughing.

"I really did," she insisted. "I was ten, I think."

"You've been all over the place haven't you?"

"No one wanted me," she said, and regretted the words. She clenched her fist till the knuckles turned white under the skin.

"What do you have there?" he said, prying open her hand, she let him have the crumpled piece of paper reluctantly.

Mike unfolded it, looked at the scrawled sharp letters:

_1. Do NOT loos temper_

_2. Breath befor talking._

"You spelled some words incorrectly," he pointed out. She grabbed the paper away scowling.

"I don't want you to hate me," and then she really bit her tongue.

"Why? Because you write notes to yourself?" Mike shook his head. "I was kidding."

"Working on number two," she said and was quiet for a few minutes staring across the field.

"You're looking better," Mike said quietly. "Don't look so sick anymore. Tony was fucking with you. All that weed and crack will mess you up."

"I never f.. slept with Tony," she said sharply.

"Sorry," he apologized. She shrugged.

"Are you going to go back to school now that you got new foster parents?" he asked.

"Maybe," she lied while carefully twirling a piece of grass. Stared a thousand miles away.

"It's so much better uptown," Mike said after a while. "Chinatown seems like the world until you leave. It's just a couple of city blocks and a bunch of idiots who don't want to change. You need to get out of there, hanging out there is bad news."

"Yeah," said Revy listlessly. Her pager went off. "Oh crap... I mean gosh, I guess I have to go. I'll give you a call again OK?

--

The Sunday morning skies over Manhattan had gone steel gray.

Martin Sai's Porsche led the black parade down Canal Street. A hearse followed along with over a dozen limousines and too many cars to count, all with their lights on. Revy was wide-eyed staring back at the line. Up till now she had had no idea of the numbers of Born to Kill. She was only familiar with the small group of Canal Boys under Tony Ngo.

From nowhere there had materialized, hundreds of Vietnamese gangsters. Some groups had arrived late in the morning from as far away as Canada to the north and Florida from the south. All dressed uniformly alike in their black linen suits, black sneakers and black sunglasses. Their hair spiked, all bristling with attitude and menace. Almost all of them under twenty years of age.

Revy had raided Noelle's clothing and had found a relatively modest black skirt, nylons, and a matching black jacket. A pair of flats had been chosen, she would not sacrifice mobility. She wore a pair of elbow white cotton gloves – her own sign of respect for the deceased

"It was a drive-by," Martin finally spoke to her. It was the first time in two days he had not been distracted with the arrangements, "Huynh Ngo was gunned down right there on the sidewalk. Of all the _dai lows_ I had he was the best of them all."

The tone rang false, Revy stared sharply at her boss.

Huynh had been shot in retaliation for the violence she had begun There had been other gun fights and stabbings throughout New York City. But Huynh's death had been a great shock to the group, the _dai low_ had been well liked. Martin believed the funeral show was necessary for the brotherhood's morale. Huynh's death, like everything else was something to be controlled and used.

"How about them?" she jerked her thumb at the police cruisers parked on the side with the lights flashing right before the entrance of the Holland Tunnel.

'What about them," Martin grunted.

--

At the gates of the Roseland Cemetery, gang members handed to each of the mourners a white carnation and a good-luck penny to be thrown in the open grave. Martin shook his head when Revy went to accept one.

"You won't need it," he said curtly. "Stay in the back and keep out of the way." Then he strode into the milling crowd with his lieutenants marshaled around him. Revy was uncomfortably aware of some hard stares, her reputation as Martin's gunsel was common knowledge.

"Well, fine then" she grumbled. "Arrogant piss-ass..."

But Martin was right about one thing. She did not belong in this crowd. All of the mourners whether male or female were had a common background. All of them refugees from the fall of South Vietnam, a lost generation in a land that would have preferred they did not exist at all. Reminders of a lost war that Revy only knew of from movies.

So the girl stood apart, fifteen meters back from anyone else in the crowd underneath a towering oak. The pallbearers came up the hill bearing the casket. Tony Ngo first on the right with a set face. Revy realizing belatedly that Huynh Ngo must have been Tony's older brother.

The pallbearers marched through the crowd. Smoke billowed from an open garbage can by the grave, the clothing of the deceased was being burnt so it would be available to him in the afterlife. The crowd grew quiet.

"Soooo, how does it feel to be a killer?" A soft voice said behind Revy.

It was Mr. Gaan. Dressed for the occasion in a gray trench-coat, but still somehow undistinguished in every way. He had come up behind undetected and far too close for comfort.

Revy felt as if acid was suddenly running through her veins at the sight of him. She stepped hastily away, turning to face Gaan.

"How does it feel to be an asshole?" she retorted.

Gaan crushed his cigarette with the sole of his shoe, his eyes narrowed to slits. "You've lost respect for your elders since you've strapped on those guns, little girl."

"I'll let you in on a secret," he leaned forward. "Never screw with a man's livelihood. I've spent too much time the last month cleaning up the mess you created with your little adventure, speaking with cops and so forth. If I had had even the slightest..."

"Why did you make me pick up the payment?" she hissed, letting the anger show. "Really rub it in that I hadn't really escaped, wasn't really free was I? Let me know that I owed my slightest breath to you? Don't think I didn't GET it, you sick fuck. Why do you think I wore that collar?"

"No one's ever really free," he responded levelly. "Best you learn it now. We all owe someone in our lives. Would you have rather not known?"

She was shaking, "Gaan, did you ever go down.. down into that goddamn prick's little torture chamber while I was there?"

"Of course," he replied, his eyes fixed on hers. "Who do you think was supplying our friend Slim with Asian girls? We were. You were just an extra bonus. The stray who walked in the door."

"Bastards," spittle flecked her lips. In a rage she stepped forward, with a spastic motion went for the guns beneath her jacket.

Gaan was faster. He moved in a blur; spun the girl around effortlessly, pinned her right arm behind her back. Something sharp came up between her legs and pressed against the right inner thigh.

Two of the mourners briefly looked back at the girl who appeared to be leaning back against the man's chest, possibly her father for support during this difficult time. Gaan nodded politely at them and they turned away.

"No respect for the dead I see," Gaan said, eyes glinting. "I can crush your vocal cords with a blow. The stiletto hidden beneath your dress will cut through the femoral artery in your thigh. Within a minute enough blood will have poured down your leg that you will start to feel dizzy. You'll lose consciousness before death comes. I'll hold you up till then. And not one person will know... or care.

He twisted her arm forcefully, she had to stand up on tiptoe. A thin noise came out of her throat.

"Give me one good reason why you should live," he murmured.

"I have five," Revy said painfully. "Coming up the hill on the right. They're not here to sing kumbaya and cry a river."

"What?" Gaan's eyes flickered.

"You're right," he said slowly. "We have a problem. It is time for the dance of the weapons is it not?"

They were spread out in a line walking up the hill towards the assembled mourners. Asian men in black trench-coats that flappeded out in the cool breeze, their eyes masked by sunglasses. No one but Revy and Gaan had noted their purposeful approach; heads had been lowered as they started to lower Huynh's casket into the ground.

Gaan released the girl with a slight push to the side, dropped the stiletto to the ground. "Eeyah, I should not have come," he sighed, "It is what it is. Clear the way, girl. We will close with them. Kill them all."

The gunmen stopped at the same time. Metal glinted as guns were jerked out of the trench-coats. Revy took out the Berettas, Gaan suddenly had large Thai blades in each hand that had been concealed in his long coat.

The rapid fire burst of Uzi's tore the air. Screams and shouts followed, the crowd broke as people started to fall and others took flight. There was the boom of a shotgun. The gunmen were shooting randomly into what had instantly become a terrified mob.

Revy hurdled a tombstone and a crawling woman. The Berettas crashed in her hands. The nearest gunman's head jerked back. He dropped his Uzi and fell.

Two of the gunmen had run forward and were shooting people on the ground. Revy spun and opened fire. They dove for cover.

The crowd burst past her, the fallen trampled underneath, people stampeding down the hill towards the cemetery gates. Out of the corner of her eye, Revy saw Martin Sai fleeing with astonishing speed. It was absolutely incredible, she was the only one there who had come with weaponry beside Gaan. No one had even considered such an extreme act of violence.

Bullets snapped by her, tore the ground at her feet. Revy fired wildly back without pretense of aim, sprinting past a mausoleum with marble chips spraying into the air.

One of the gunman, short and with a shaved head frantically tried to clear a jammed shell. Gaan came in low with both blades extended, one to the throat, the other to the groin. The gunman's scream was choked off in a gout of blood.

Revy rolled behind the thick base of an obelisk, fumbled for a clip and realized she had not brought any extra. "Fuck!" She tossed the empty gun aside, scrambled up and about.

Gaan danced as bullets stitched his midsection. The gray trench-coat flared out as he fell spinning onto his knees and then slumped onto his face.

Tony Ngo stood alone at his brother's open grave. He spit on the ground in defiance as the two leading gunman closed on him, unaware that their companions had been taken out behind them. The attackers were laughing, eyes dilated, iced up on meth for the job. The tall, skinny one pumped the gauge on his shotgun.

Revy ran hard with the one remaining Beretta clasped in both hands. She disposed of Gaan's killer with a shot from behind as she tore past the the shooter, then slid as if she was going for home at the feet of the man with the shotgun. Her last shots were fired up into his torso. He lurched forward and fell on Revy, his shotgun just out of arm's reach.

"The _yin wa,_" shouted the remaining gunman, his teeth showing in a rictus. He stepped towards her swinging the Uzi around. Revy wailed as the barrel swept down towards her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Tony lunged forward cursing and took the gunman to the ground where they rolled kicking and slugging.

Revy rolled the dead man off and grabbed the shotgun from the ground. She crawled over to the fighting men and jammed the barrel of the shotgun hard into the face of Tony's opponent.

"Eat this!" she shrieked and pulled the trigger.

--

Tony pulled her up off the ground.

Smoke from the gunfire drifted by in the air. Sirens sounded in the distance. They stared at each other, dimly aware of the continued shouting and screaming at the base of the hill.

"Your gloves," he said. She blinked in confusion and then peeled the elbow length gloves off as directed and handed them over.

Tony took the Beretta and the shotgun from where they lay on the ground. He walked over to his brother's open grave and dropped the guns and gloves out of sight between the casket and the side of the grave.

"Get lost," Tony said straightening up, not looking at her.

She started limping away, somewhere in the confusion she had twisted her ankle. Then stopped.

"No wait, I can't," she said, stumbling back over the white overturned lawn-chairs, the dozen or so bodies that lay sprawled about the grassy lawn. Tony followed slowly.

"Hey, it's Mr. Gaan, what happened?" he asked stupidly, wiping the blood from his face.

Revy knelt down beside the body. Gaan was dead.

"He brought knives to a gunfight," she said.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Aftermath Blues**

The cold rain came with a sudden rush. Revy knelt by the body of Gaan.

"You've gotta go now," said Tony kneeling down one one knee beside her.

"He lied to me," Revy said. She began to shake uncontrollably, though whether that was from delayed shock or from the rain Tony couldn't tell. She looked half drowned with her hair plastered against her face and the little half jacket hanging off one shoulder with the empty gun holsters in plain view.

Tony began swearing in English and Vietnamese, "_Cai deo gi day_! Oh, son of a bitch! Too late, it's too late!" He looked around wildly, the first police cars had arrived and officers were running up the hill towards the scene of the massacre.

For a few moments it had felt like they were the only ones still present at the burial site, but people were starting to stir and stand up. A number of the mourners had lying on the ground or cowering behind tombstones, others who had been wounded were moaning or crying out in pain. There was no way he could get over to the open grave of his brother and drop the holsters underneath the casket like he had just done with her guns and gloves.

"He fucking lied to me," she said again, oblivious to the danger she was in. "So I was just the goddamn stray that walked in the door, huh? Well fuck that! I'm not sorry he's dead..."

"Will you just shut up?" screamed Tony losing his temper. he grabbed Revy by the shoulders and started shaking. She let out a strangled yell and clawed at him.

"We don't have time for this!" Tony snarled. "Listen! You don't speak English at all. If they ask you questions, look stupid as hell. Act like a girl or something!"

He whipped off his jacket and draped it over Revy's shoulders and pulled the lapels together in front. Then he pulled the still struggling Revy close, held her in his arms as the police came up. Tony started patting her back awkwardly.

"It's gonna be alright," he said loudly. "You're okay, you're gonna be okay..."

--

"It's okay miss," said the large police with the bulbous nose and sandy hair. He cradled the girl in his arms and walked carefully towards the cemetery gates and the milling crowd they were trying to control.

"_Wang chung, wow hi sue_," the Chinese girl chattered determinedly, holding onto the front of the jacket with both hands. The girl's brown eyes appeared to be dilated from shock, and she felt like a bundle of high tension wires in his arms.

"Don't worry now," he said carrying her past the crowd of Vietnamese. Revy looked around for Tony or Martin, but couldn't see them. The officer went to an ambulance and put her down carefully on the grass beside it with a grunt. It wasn't as if he was carrying a child, she did weigh perhaps a hundred and ten. Someone was shouting something. "They'll take good care of you. These are New Jersey's best."

The medevac helicopter came roaring in overhead, dropping out of the cloud cover. Yet more sirens could be heard approaching.

The officer straightened up and took off his cap, scratching his head. Revy decided he looked like Ernest Borgnine from the _Wild Bunch_. "Geez, I've never seen anything like this. Must have been one heck of a shootout. The media's gonna go to town on this one."

"_Ni shitsu_," Revy said helpfully.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:** **They'll Go Down Together**

_What would you do?  
What would you do?  
Do you know?  
Was it all a joke, never had control  
I'm not better on my own_

_"It's Not Over," by Carolina Liar_

"Pizza's the best," said Revy and attempted to cram in a whole slice into her mouth.

"You're a pig," laughed Mike throwing a crumpled up napkin at her.

"Mrrummph"she grunted.

"I didn't think I'd see you at all." said Mike. "You seem really ticked off three weeks ago."

"I haven't had much to do," said Revy grabbing for the last piece. "You know what I'm really sick of? _Pho_ noodles. I'm sick of noodles. Noodles suck."

"Time to go," said Mike looking at his watch and gathering his backpack and cello. "I have a lesson I can't be late for, the teacher's a real pain. Hey, would you like to go to a dance with me?"

"_Ackkk!_" Revy started waving her arms, pointed at her throat frantically. Mike dropped the backpack and cello with a deep twang and grabbed her from behind, thrust his fists into her solar plexus. She spit out the pizza with a deep heave.

A dance, like a high school dance?" she sputtered. "Uh, yeah. Sure!"

"You okay? Cool," Mike said with a grin. "It's in a couple of weeks, we'll do this." He was out the door of the pizza parlor with a wave.

Revy was still smiling when Vuong and two others came in. Before she could react they were standing around the table.

Vuong was one of the older members of BTK, over twenty, but barely five three in height with a gaunt feral look. His two followers weren't much different with their spiked, punked out hair. And at the moment Vuong wasn't happy.

"What's up?" said Revy stiffly, carefully wiping the corners of her mouth as Vuong glowered at her.

Without warning Vuong smacked the back of his hand across her face. Revy's head jerked to the side, but she recovered with a thin smile and slowly placed the flats of her hands on the table top. Behind the counter, there was a clatter of pans as the hired help ducked for cover.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Vuong snarled. "The boss tells you not to move, you don't move you crazy bitch."

"If you ever hit me..." Vuong slapped her again before she could finish. A trickle of blood dripped from her lip. Revy turned a little and looked at Vuong without blinking.

"You not so tough without your guns," he shouted. "you shut up. You big fuckin' problem. All Chinatown want you dead and you out eating pizza!"

--

"I'm going to kill Vuong," Rey announced grimly. She was doing push ups on the floor of Tony's flat. There were three other Canal Boys hanging out with Tony. As usual, Tony's aunt was working.

"Vuong's mad because the police 'aggressively' questioned him after Roseland," Tony said, staring cross-eyed at the tip of the burning joint he held. "Meanwhile you had an admiration thing going on with those officers. Hell, they were carrying you about, giving you bottled water and shit."

The television was on, they had discovered Bonny and Clyde on cable. Warren Beatty was talking about something, but the gang was barely paying attention.

'Oh, young miss, you twisted your little ankle, oh dear." Tony bellowed. Then he squeaked in a falsetto to the laughter of the others. "_Oh moo goo gai pan_, Mr. Officer sir-san! Sheeit! Vuong was really pissed off about that."

Revy kept on doing push ups.

"You were told to stay put at the Carter," continued Tony sucking in a big hit from a joint. As usual he was sprawled on the couch. He was referring to the Carter Hotel on West Forty-Third Street, used as a safe house when the occasion demanded..

"It's for your own good," burst in Blondie, a tall _Viet-Ching _who had died his hair blond and looked like an Asian Billy Idol. "There's a price on your head, the Soaring Serpents, the Ghost Shadows, hell.. it's gone city wide, even the Green Dragons from Queens are on the hunt. You're fuckin' legend now. You're probably worth 5G now."

"Heh," Revy grunted.

"The good thing is, none of those dip-shits know what you look like or where you are. Unless someone rats you out, you're safe with us." stammered Sad Eyes, a small _Viet-Kieu _who when he had first seen Revy at the Pho Khe Sanh restaurant, had fallen madly in love with the Chinese Maiden of Death as he called Revy.

"Vuong's a piece of crap," she said puffing and starting sit ups. "He thinks because he shot a 7-11 clerk in the back he's hot shit. And I got bored, really bored at the Carter. Told to sit in a crappy, _whoof_, hotel room for what, forever? Martin tells you not to talk to me, and you all run away? Sitting at social services was better than that crap. So I called Nguyen Phuc and snuck out for a bit."

"What?" Tony said incredulously. "Mikey?"

"22... 23... _ugh_... 24. Cause he's a nice guy, unlike you dipsticks... 25. He asked me to a dance."

Tony made a choked noise. "You gotta be joking? Like a high school dance?" Sad Eyes died a thousand times inn his own mind, and hid his sorrow by getting a beer from the fridge.

"Yep," she said, thumping up into a handstand against the wall. "Only problem is I think Vuong followed me and saw Mikey. That's not, _ugh_, cool. If we hadn't run into you, _urk_, guys when Vuong was 'escorting' me back downtown, I don't know what that, _aagh_, jerk was going to do. Actually, I do know what he was going to do..."

She collapsed to the floor panting.

"I don't get it," said Tony, eyes narrowed to slits.

"They had me cornered," Revy said bitterly. "He started hitting me and I had to deal. The other guys were just waiting. I've been there before, could see it in their eyes. That shithead's right about one thing, without my guns I'm just a powerless bitch that's good for nothing. I don't think I'm Martin's house girl anymore. What's going down?"

"We haven't seen Martin," said Blondie. "Things got strange after the funeral. We thought he'd want payback. But we were told to keep our heads down for a while. He's been meeting with some dudes from Thailand. They're the real thing. Real nasty looking guys. Something big's going down. There's a war council tonight."

"No, no, goddammit! Screw all that crap. what's the deal with Mike?" said Tony loudly, irritation scratching his voice. He slapped his hand on the couch, dust flying for emphasis. They all stared at him.

Revy got it. She wiggled a bit for him, thumped her butt on the floor. Laughed at them all as they pretended to ignore the show, "Whatsamatter Tony? I thought I was too skinny for you?"

"Not anymore," Tony mumbled looking away.

She rolled back, snapped up to her feet in one smooth move.

I'm cool with you guys right?" she asked them.

"Yes," said Small Talk, the third and quietest of the lot. He had been working on a cigarette.

"Good. I want in," she said in a rush, "I'm not going to be some tossup bitch anymore. Hell, last couple months I've done more killing for this gang than anyone else ever has. That's gotta count. I want something other than being Martin's "coffee girl" with the guns. I want to be Born to Kill."

She lit a cigarette, struck a pose and smiled crookedly "Shit, I was born to kill."

"What'll Mikey think" said Tony jealously, ruining the moment.

"You owe me." she glared at Tony. There was silence, except for the sound of Small Talk taking a deep breath, a cat mewing from the side room. Inwardly Revy was terrified they would laugh at her, reject the request out of hand. Breath held, she waited, a bead of sweat running slowly down her brow.

"What'll Martin think?" said Sad Eyes uncertainly. He looked around. Tony rolled the joint between his fingers thinking. Blondie coughed.

"Fuck Martin," said Tony with sudden focus, looking up. "We're with you Revy."

On the television, Bonnie Parker was reading a poem. They all listened with a strange foreboding.

_"Here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.  
Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang  
I'm sure you have all read  
How they rob and steal__  
And those who squeal  
Are usually found dyin' or dead...  
By a sub-guns' rat-a-tat-tat__  
Some day they'll go down together  
They'll bury them side by side__  
To a few, it'll be grief__To the law, a relief  
To the law, a relief  
But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde."_

"_Dao lam nguoi_," whispered Small Talk. He put out his cigarette.

--

"Why?" asked Tony later from the bed.

"What do you mean?" bending over to put on her boots.

"You're taken care of," he said. "You get to hang out at Martin's place, You get to use the indoor pool, shoot guns at the barn, it's gotta be sweet."

"Let me tell you something," she said heatedly. "You guys, once you kill or rob, get respect. Even better, you can even quit. You're _Dai low_ to these guys and all you've done is rob one jewelry store and throw parties, right?"

"I would have done anything for Martin," Revy said stretching. "Bbut you know what he did after I dropped those three guys outside the mall? We're driving to his place after I ran out the back; he's all excited and shit, talking crap about sex and death. Next thing I know, he's pulled the car over and he grabs me by the hair, pulls my head into his lap like that's what I want. My mind was like all kinda blank, I mean what am I supposed to do? He's the goddamn boss."

Revy paused to take a breath, "Then I had this picture of myself on my knees every fuckin' night for this bastard. And I couldn't take it. That's all the respect I get."

She stood up, without bothering to tie the laces.

"What'd you do?" said Tony fascinated. He couldn't see any way out of the dilemma Revy had found herself in.

"I got carsick."

"Oh," then, "OH!!" Tony started laughing. "You didn't?"

"I did. Jammed a finger in my throat and booted all over him and his precious Porsche," she said with a gleam in her eyes. "I was crying and apologizing, big freakin' fakeout. Martin was seriously pissed off. Had to ride in the back after that."

**note**: _"coffee boy"_ term used in Chinatown for a gangster who does the dirty work. With Revy, it would be of course _"coffee girl."_

"_Dao lam nguoi,"_ - Vietnamese for the law of karma.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:** **Nothing to Lose**

_Honey you've been trippin'  
Are you ready  
Don't give a fuck  
cause if you've got nothing to lose  
then baby you've got it all._

_"Nothing to Lose," by Operator_

"She's freaked," said Blondie to Tony gloomily.

They were on the subway, the group of them heading uptown. Martin Sai had sent out word at the last moment. They were all to meet at a Japanese banquet hall on the upper West Side, far from Chinatown and Canal Street.

"She doesn't like subways," said Tony swaying with the movement of the car. The two of them stood close together by the doors. Revy was on the other side, her head down, arms crossed against her coat.

Sad Eyes and Small Talk both came walking back up the aisles from different directions. They had done a sweep of the train cars, making sure they didn't have company. Tony had become paranoid after realizing that the girl, any girl with Born to Kill members, was now a target for the Chinese gangs on the prowl. Tony relaxed when they both shook their heads.

That left only the cop at the other end of the car, who was watching them closely. Tony stared back briefly, then looked away. As far as he was concerned, it was just another level of protection.

"How's this gonna work _dai low_?" said Blondie leaning close so as to not be overheard. "Hell, it was easy for us, all we had to do was take part in a few robberies and your bro' took us to get tattooed. But she's no _Viet-Kieu_, or _-Ching_ for that matter. What's _Anh hai_ gonna do?"

"Don't forget about Carlos Vasquez," Tony whispered back. "He was BTK, and he wasn't Vietnamese. He was part of the gang."

Blondie grimaced, and Tony regretted the example instantly. Vasquez had been suspected of being a police informant, and had vanished three months ago. In fact, the last time he had been seen, Carlos had been having a discussion on Canal Street with Revy's erstwhile 'guardian', Mr. Gaan.

"Oh," said Tony, "I get it now. Shit, that guy really wasn't a janitor..."

"What?" said Sad Eyes coming in on the tail end of the conversation as he usually did.

Tony reached out and lightly smacked Sad Eyes upside the side of the head.

The train came to a halt and they stepped out onto the subway station, the group immediately surrounded Revy and made for the stairs.

As they came up the stairwell and out onto the street, with a cold wind blowing, Tony checked to make sure the gun tucked inside his jacket hadn't shifted. Hell, he should just give it to Revy, he'd probably just shoot himself if it came to that. But when he turned to the girl, he was dismayed to see the look on Revy's face. It was one of panic.

"Give me your hat," she hissed at him. Mystified, he took off the baseball cap and she crammed it on her head and pulled the brim low. Even more peculiar she swerved and huddled close to him on his right.

"What's going on?" Sad Eyes asked, startled. The behavior was so out of character with what they had all come to expect even Small Talk looked concerned.

"Over there," Revy said with a jerk of her head. She thrust her hands into her pockets.

The group was passing a by low brown-gray concrete block of a building on their left. The parking lot to the side was filled with police cruisers and several men were stepping out of the front entrance talking loudly as they went by within touching distance. It was the 27th Precinct Station House of the NYPD.

"What about it?" Tony said. He considered putting his arm around her shoulders, but realized it would be taken poorly.

"My last fuckin' 'Dad' works there," she mumbled.

"You never said any..." Tony said, but was cut off.

"Forget it, just forget it!" she said harshly and picked up the pace, stepping out in front of the group with a forced swagger. Both Sad Eyes and Blondie exchanged glances and shook their heads. "Nobody's business but mine, and I don't give a shit!"

--

They were late, among the last to arrive. The gathering was as big as the funeral had been. Over a hundred members of BTK were present; crews from New Jersey, New York and Connecticut had shown up. On a dais in the rear was David Thai's table with the gathered _dai low's _in attendance. A large white banner with a black coffin with three candles on top drawn crudely on the fabric hung behind them. There were tables with food spread throughout the room for the milling throng.

"Look, look," murmured Blondie to Tony. A separate group, six or seven men stood separate. They were older and harder looking than the young Vietnamese, almost military in bearing. "That's the Thai dudes. Hey, shouldn't you be with the rest of the _dai lows?"_

"Never mind that. Guys, get yourself some food." said Tony dryly. They found a table in the rear. Heads were already turning, voices were rising. Revy had been spotted. Most of those present had seen her at action at Roseland Cemetery and the story had grown in the telling. The girl who had gunned down the attackers while the rest of the gang had been forced to flee.

Revy swung a chair around so she could rest her forearms on the back rest and dropped her head down as if resting. Only the clenched knuckles and one foot tapping rhythmically on the floor indicated her true state. She appeared unaware of the excitement her presence was causing among the Born to Kill members gathered round Tony's table. With mounting alarm, Tony wondered if Revy had lost her nerve. He didn't dare talk with all the attention.

"Brothers, if I can have your attention," called out Martin Sai, speaking in Vietamese from the dais. "Please sit, there is much to talk about..."

--

"... and we have suffered many losses, but so have they," said Martin in conclusion after a solid half hour speech. "but we have something they do not have. We may not, cannot in all likelihood ever control Chinatown and that is something I can accept. That is because we are everywhere else where they are not; we are in Newark, Atlanta, Port Charles, Houston, even Canada. We have possibilities before us beyond the confines of Chinatown. Let _Chut Suk _and his little gangs have their pathetic few city blocks.! We have all of the United States!"

Chairs scraped against the floor as the entire brotherhood stood and cheered loudly with pride. They had glimpsed through his words a marvelous future. Let the Chinese have their "gilded ghetto!" In their collective imagination was a helpless country ripe for the picking. Just within the last few years they had been nothing more than refugees, boat people with nothing, not even pride . Now they could see themselves becoming the next Mafia.

"We will be selecting road crews over the next week," shouted Martin over the tumult. "Others of you will be going out to other cities to build up the brotherhood elsewhere. There is indeed much to accomplish."

He stepped down with a grin and a wave, nodded slightly to the side table with the impassive Thai guests, and stepped into the crowd making his way to each table.

Within fifteen long minutes he reached the back of the room where he came upon Tony and his small crew.

"I thought perhaps you hadn't made it," said Martin jovially with a cognac in one hand and cigar in the other. The knowledge that the heroin trade of the Golden Triangle was about to be taken over by him and that no one among his foot-soldiers was the wiser. satisfied his ego beyond mere words. Then he saw Revy and blinked.

"Ahhh, well, and how do you explain this?" he said to Tony still in Vietnamese. "What is she doing here? I am very disappointed."

The silence spread like the ripples of a rock dropped in a still pond.

"I am sorry _Anh hai. _I know this probably isn't the right time_," _said Tony in English with more conviction than he thought possible. "But when will it be? I thought... is she not one of us? Hasn't she earned it? How can we not deny her the brotherhood?"

"Because, you fucking moron, it is a brotherhood!" shouted Vuong, spit flying. He jumped up in a rage from his seat, his gang joining. "We the baddest motherfuckers in Chinatown, we gonna let girls in now? What the fuck! We gonna play with dollies next?"

"Who crapped his pants at Roseland?" jeered someone from the side. Vuong spun around, eyes bulging looking for the heckler. There were more shouts, then a full roar as tempers were lost and the crowd went out of control. They rushed at each other and shouted incoherently, a table was knocked over, the food and drink spilling on the groud. Blows were thrown and two men went down wrestling. The Thai guests stood up in alarm.

"That's enough," shouted Martin over the confusion, his eyes shining, face flushed with rage. "Disgraceful! you are behaving like children! Be quiet and I shall decide."

There was a general withdrawal, heads were hung in embarrassment, feet shuffled. Revy raised her head from her arms and fixed Martin with an unblinking stare.

"Look here brothers," said Martin in the silence that followed."Tony is right. I have been very wrong to keep Rebecca here apart from us. A friend of mine saw something useful in her that I did not believe in, but he was right. She is a natural born killer. Where some of you hesitate," here he paused for emphasis, "she does not."

"However, unlike other gangs," he said turning to make his point. "We don't have initiation rights. We were all initiated on the boats, by our pain, if you will. We join BTK because it is our mutual destiny Not so for Rebecca. How then, can we accept her I ask you?"

"Aww, shit, here it comes," said Blondie softly aside to Small Talk.

"I've heard that in some gangs, girls can become initiated by getting, oh how do they put it these Westerners," Martin glanced maliciously at Revy. "That's right, a train. A gang-bang by the members of the gang. I think that would be fitting, it would show us how 'eager' she is to join. Could you handle that, Rebecca?"

Small Talk stole a side glance at Revy. But she was slowly lighting a cigarette. Her hands were steady. She was staring directly at Martin, no emotion at all showing on her face. It was dead.

"Fuck no!" shouted Tony over a few whoops of agreement. "What kind of a shit deal is that? She's already been blooded. For any one of us that's more than enough!"

"Well then," said Martin spinning lightly on his feet, arms spread out. "What do you propose Tony Ngo? I understand how you feel, she did save your life at Roseland. So what exactly are we going to do to Rebecca?"

"Uh..." said Tony.

--

**notes**: I just love a good cliffhanger...

There is no 27th Precinct, so the location is somewhat dubious. See Episode 12 of the anime and check out Revy's reaction when this is brought up by the CIA operatives towards the end. Talk about spastic.

Four more chapters to go. And for those of you reading this, the rumor is production has started on Black Lagoon's third season. We'll see.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Three**

_What I need I like  
What I don't I fight  
N' I don't need you  
So say bye bye  
While your still alive  
Cause your time is due  
'Cause I'm a problem child_

"_Problem Child," by AC/DC_

"We all agree she's been blooded, right?" Martin Sai asked. "So that counts for something, but I say it's not enough because she's not one of us."

"That's not fair," mumbled Sad Eyes.

"So let's see how badly she wants it?" Martin asked the crowd. There were drunken shouts of agreement. Like a pack of wolves, they gathered around.

"No," shouted Tony. "I say she, she should get a fair chance. Like a vote."

"Yeah, that's happening. I guess you'd prefer to see little Rebecca beaten then," Martin sneered. "Alright then, this is how it's gonna go down. We'll jump her in. All she has to do is survive, oh, three minutes against three members, right here, right now. We'll even make the fight somewhat equal so it wonn't be a total dud. One the first minute, two the second, three the third."

"You go down for longer than ten seconds or call quits," said Martin addressing the silent Revy. "Then it's over. As far as I care they can drag you to the back room when you lose and do whatever they want. You wanna quit now, then get your sorry ass to the front lobby and I'll deal you when I'm good and ready."

"I'm up for this," shrieked Vuong hysterically. "My boys and I will take care of this _Anh hai. _ Let_. _us do it. We'll freaking' pound this bi..."

"Thank you for volunteering. You're indeed up Vuong," said Martin with a veiled glance. "Now shut the hell up. Quang, take care of this, I have to speak to our guests."

Revy pushed back the chair and stood up. "Let's go."

--

Revy sized up Vuong and his cronies as a space was cleared in the center of the restaurant, tables and chair pulled with a great commotion to create an open space. What worked to her advantage was that Vuong and the other two weren't that much taller or heavier than her. If they had been Anglo or Hispanics she would have been outweighed and outmatched. But thanks to Martin's conditions she had a slight chance.

The three took their places around the circle with smirks and high fives from their supporters. There was a rowdy outburst of voices as the crowd milled with excitement as Revy stepped into her spot with Tony and the gang behind her.

Vuong whipped off his shirt and posed to applause, he strode around the open circle waving his hands and grinning wildly. He stopped in front of Revy who shrank back from him, eyes downcast.

"We're so gonna use you," he sneered. "Hope you like sloppy leftovers, Tony boy."

"Go to hell," said Tony hollowly. As Vuong turned his back to him, Tony reached for the gun in his pocket. Maybe, just maybe he could get Revy out...

"Don't," said Revy calmly without looking. Somehow she had known what he was up to.

"You can't do this Beckie," he said putting a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

"Don't ever call me that," she said coldly. And stepped forward into the arena cracking her knuckles. " I fuckin' hate being called Beckie."

Quang stepped into the center of the ring. He was a heavyset, but poised _dai low_ from Brooklyn. He waved for silence.

"Okay, you all heard the rules," he shouted in his best 'ready to rumble' voice. "Ms. REEeebecca gets to fight uh, Mr. Mot, for the first minute. Then Mr. Mot and Mr. Hai for the second minute, then it's an all out rumble – or worse – as Vuong gets tagged in for the third minute. All Ms. Rebecca has to do is, well not get screwed." He shrugged apologetically and blinked, "Sorry, that's what it's all about huh?"

"Well, then, let's get it on!"

Mot took his time coming out, he was smiling as he walked towards her. He pawed the air in front of him like a grappler, the left leading. She notice he stood too high up, he wasn't taking her seriously at all. Unconsciously Revy switched to southpaw and circled against his strong arm.

But there was nothing else that indicated any skill on the part of the girl. Instead, she moved clumsily away from Mot as if frightened for as long as she could. Stumbled over the untied bootlaces as he finally rushed her.

Mot dropped into a lunge and as she shrank back raising her arms in front of her face with a squeal, he picked her up around the midsection and shook her laughing. But her hands were free.

Revy twisted rapidly. Her hands were a blur, they were cupped and they smashed into his ears, before Mot could react, she had smashed the points of both elbows into the side of his neck. Mot gasped and released Revy and as she dropped she jammed the heel of one of her boot's down his shin and rebounded the knee into Mot's groin.

Mot dropped, his face rushing into the floor with a smack heard throughout the shocked and silent room. Even the Thai guests who had remained seated at their table with Martin rose to watch at this unexpected reversal.

It was 45 seconds.

The crowd began to stamp their feet in unison, the sound rising in a thunderous wave. Revy positioned herself in front of Hai bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, the shoelaces flopping in rhythm. She looked a little off of him until five seconds before the minute and the she arced her gaze and dropped a glare on him.

Hai smiled back at Revy.

"Go!" shouted Quang.

Hai stepped forward cautiously and Revy met him with a charge and a jump, trying to come above his guard with a sucker punch, but he moved away without responding.

She went at him with a scream, and threw an over extended kick and was batted casually away. Again, he didn't follow up on his advantage as she went past him.

Confused, Revy spun about and started circling, totally focused on Hai. It was a mistake, she had lost track of where Mot lay sprawled on the floor. She stumbled over the groaning boy.

Hai dived for her as she sprawled onto the floor, landing hard on her back. A roar broke out from the crowd as Revy rolled away, spinning and kicking at Hai's legs as he closed.. She was able to plant her arms and spring to her feet, only to catch the full brunt of a swinging punch.

Revy reeled back into the crowd, they threw her back towards the attacker. She went into a slide, spun and stopped by Hai's ankles. She kicked as hard as she could into the area in back of his knee. He shouted and staggered away clutching at his leg. Mot had now recovered enough to throw himself on Revy. He grabbed Revy's face and drove the back of her head into the floor with a thud.

In desperation she bit his hand. Screaming he jerked off of her and rolled away, leaving bloody marks on the floor. Up on her hands and knees Revy scrambled to get distance, breathing rapidly in whistle like gulps. The two boys collected them themselves and began circling the girl as she scrambled to her feet.

"Go," shouted Quang and Revy realized that now it was three on one. Vuong was charging from behind. Too late she spun around to catch Vuong's fist on the side of her head

Revy's head snapped back, her mouth twisted in a grimace of pain. The blow had split her lip and blood gushed. She went down on her hand and knees again. Tony shouted, the words lost in the din.

"Got ya," Vuong shrieked and tried to close with Revy. She rolled and whipped a boot up into the side of his face, Vuong went down cursing. As she rose, the other two boys dashed at her working together. She fell back, dodging and twisting; letting them get in each other's way in their frenzy

They finally cornered Revy and attempted to grab her. She went berserk, eyes unnatural, small pupils with a flat glitter to them, the face convulsed, thin lips drawn back exposing her sharp wolfish teeth. Hai shrieked as she clawed viciously at his eyes, and she arched and smashed her forehead down on Mot's nose as he grabbed onto her wrist. She felt the nose break on impact and the blood gushed down Mot's lips and chin. The boys stepped back. They had lost their will to fight.

But Vuong attacked. He closed directly on the exhausted girl, spun around and back fisted Revy across the face. Pain filled her head, but stayed up. He dropped into a crouch and drove into her with a combination of short hard blows into the midsection.. Then he caught her hard in the solar plexus and she doubled up with a whine and dropped her arms as the last of her strength drained abruptly out of her body. Revy couldn't fall back fast enough. Vuong advanced, eyes gleaming, raining blow upon blow upon the now defenseless girl as she stumbled and fell, legs folding...

"Time," shouted Quang.

There was absolute pandemonium. Tony and the others rushed forward.

--

The side of her head felt like it was going to burst open and there was a red fog in front of her eyes. She had bitten her tongue and it felt thick and swollen in her mouth.

The slow clapping of Martin's hands echoed in the tiled bathroom. More afraid of Martin than Vuong and his crew, Revy dragged herself across the floor and slumped against the wall. They were alone, Martin had ordered the protective and worried Canal Boys out of the room.

"I honestly thought I'd be coming back here to save your honor or at least your little ass," said Martin lighting a cigarette. "But I wouldn't have come for you if you had quit. Really, it was impressive. If I was a gambling man, I would have lost on that fight."

He squatted down in front of her, "Why? I thought all you wanted was money and guns as you so bluntly put it? What was the point of this pointless exercise besides getting beaten? It doesn't make sense. Honestly, I've even given some thought to letting Noelle know she's no longer... acceptable. Yes, you're a bit young, but that can be dealt with."

"Your guns, your money," gasped Revy thickly, blood and drool dripped from her lips. Her eye was rapidly swelling shut. "And I'm not gonna get on my knees to replace a French tramp. I'm not a whore."

Martin's face came closer, nodding. The lines around his eyes tightened. "So that's what that was about. Heh. Whatever. I don't remember arranging anything with Slim. You fell into that one on your own."

The cigarette glowed red, gagging she coughed as he blew smoke in her face. He stood up, "Everyone sells themselves at some point. What makes you better than the rest of us? 'Please, Mr. Sai, how can I prove myself. Yes sir, I'll kill those boys for you sir.' Fuck me, you're fooling yourself you little twat. All you've done is lose what I would have given you to be nothing than a gangbanger."

Revy turned her battered head away, the bangs of her hair falling over her eyes.

"By the way," Martin continued cruelly. "Your friend Tony. I wouldn't rely on him too much. While you were away this summer down in Jersey he bragged to anyone who would listen how he screwed the fucked up runaway who was staying with his land-lord."

"I never did anything with him," she spit out, though her stomach did a uneasy turn. Revy could barely move, she was feeling worse with each passing second.

I'm sure you didn't" Martin laughed.

He flicked the cigarette away. When the butt hit the tiles, it bounced and smoldered next to her thigh. Revy pushed it away with a trembling flick of her wrist.

"I don't have time for this," he straightened his cuffs. "Get yourself cleaned up and be ready. You and your 'friends' just got volunteered. You're doing road crew in New Haven as soon as I say so."

--

The shop was a run down hole in the wall down on the lower East Side. The artist was taken aback by the girl's appearance; limping and spitting, swollen jaw, blood encrusted lips , black eye and bruises. But that and her age didn't stop him from taking their money.

"Jusht do it. I want that pattern tribal thingy with the thwirls – like he hath." Revy lisped to the man, indicating Tony who proudly pulled up his sleeve to show his upper arm and shoulder. She pulled off her shirt with no concern for modesty, grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels from the goggled eyed Sad Eyes, and took a big swallow as she sat down in the chair.

"Take a good look athholes!" she snarled at them, rousing some indignation, but she really didn't care. A pattern of mottled bruises overlay her breasts and muscled torso. "It's my last show for tonight."

"Hey Revy," whooped Blondie as he staggered around the shop. "You should get a tattoo on your butt or a piercing where the..."

"Thith is my finger," she drunkenly said taking another swallow of Jack and extending her hand in a salute, "get your own butt thtamp and piercing, you dip-thit!"

The artist turned on the tattoo machine, took out the needle bar from the autoclave. Revy sagged back in the chair and closed the one good eye. "Thit, I'm tired."

--

It was probably four or five in the morning when they reeled into Tony's place. All five of them were beyond drunk and stoned.

"You know, do you even have an aunt?" slurred Revy leaning against the wall. She was a disturbing sight; her shoulder and neck bandaged, her face swollen, eyes mere slits. She careened against Blondie and collapsed on the floor laughing weirdly. No longer able to resist the tempation, she pulled back the bandage and squinted at the tattoo, "Bitchin!"

"Oh wow, gravity sucks," said Tony indistinctly falling on the couch. "Get lost Nguyen!" he shouted as Sad Eyes tried going for the other end. "Revy, come on up here – the rest of you guys do whatever. And don't fuck with the beer-amid, Small Talk!"

"I'm okay here Tony baby," said Revy where she was curled up on the the floor, but the words were spoken clearly and distinctly suddenly. "Hey guys, guess what I had planned for Vuong and his losers if they had gotten lucky?"

Sitting up with effort, she reached for her left boot and pulled out something small that was sharp and hooked like a claw. She spun it with a flourish.

"What the hell is that?" said Sad Eyes with surprise in his tone.

"Got it from Gaan, It's called a keramb..." said Revy with a peculiar gulp that transitioned into a snore, she slumped slowly to the floor in a heap with the kerambit blade clattering beside her. Whatever had kept the abused girl running the entire night had finally vanished.

"Men," said Tony staggering to his feet from the couch, his face flushed and perspiring. "We must rise to the uuhh, aaah the hell with it. Blondie, get the shaving cream!"

**Next: Road Kill**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: Road Kill, Part One**

_Try it you'll like it don't hide it don't fight it, just let it out  
Steal and shoot it and kill it or take another route  
Take it and take it and take it  
_

_Devour Devour  
Suffocate your own empire  
Devour Devour__  
It's your final hour._

"_Devour," lyrics by Shinedown_

There was a bench on the curve of the walking path in Central Park. The girl sat on it hunched over, head down. A cigarette tip glowed in the darkness. A thin whirl of snow, the first of the year blew past. She was aware of Mike's approach and stood up stiffly.

The poor light made it difficult to see her face clearly. Her mouth was swollen, the left side of her face badly bruised, the eyes shadowed but not from makeup. She had a stolen black turtleneck she wore underneath the green army surplus jacket that hid most of her neck... and the tattoo.

"Don't worry about it," there was a hint of menace that precluded questioning. "I -- got mugged. I sort of fought back."

Mike stared, then put his arm out to hold her. She stepped back quickly.

"No, none of that," she said in a low tone, "let's just walk. We can take our time. I don't have a curfew anymore. Don't have to run."

"How's that?" said Mike as they walked up the trail. The lights from the buildings on Central Park West cut through the bare trees as they stepped through the slices of shadow.

"I declared my independence," Revy said triumphantly. Mike looked at her and saw her teeth showing between the swollen lips in something that was not quite a smile.

"If that's so, then you have to get out of Chinatown," Mike burst out. "My parent's can help you if you need a place to stay uptown. We can help you get back in school."

Revy danced on her toes in the blowing snow flakes with her hands out, head back. "Yeah, get out of Chinatown. Get the fuck out of New York. You know what? I wanna go somewhere where it's always warm."

--

Three weeks later. 11:35 pm, Saturday evening.

"It's time. Weapons check." Revy ordered, turning off the television. She was seated cross-legged on the bed. The gang was in a small hotel room off of the Post Road on the outskirts of New Haven, Connecticut.

"I got these," said Blondie. She examined the two Uzi's critically, then handed them back. "I got extra magazines. I can carry them in the back of my belt."

Revy shook her head. "Magazines on the front or side. You don't want to fall back on them."

Tony pulled out a massive gun from the duffel bag. Revy's eyes widened. "What the hell did Martin get you? Swiss didn't have anything like that at the shop."

"Clyde Barrows used one of these," said Tony, hefting the weapon with some difficulty. "Browning Automatic Rifle. Use .30-6 ammo, with a twenty round clip. Sawed off the barrel, just like he did."

"Uhhmmm, okay," said Revy dubiously. "Well, it's scary as hell I guess. Sad Eyes?"

"Sawed off shotgun and this handgun," stammered Sad Eyes. "I think it's a Mossberg if that matters."

Small Talk walked out of the bathroom, adjusting his pants. He was bundled up in a green military jacket and had a loopy grin on his face. He had been smoking the last remnant of a joint and it showed.

"Dammit, what the fuck!" Revy flared, lunging to her feet on the bed and waving a finger at him. "Nobody drinks, nobody smokes until we're done. We agreed on that. We should leave you fuckin' behind asshole! Now what do you got?"

"Bickle Special," said Small Talk cryptically. When they stared at him without understanding he shrugged. He reached a hand into his faded trenchcoat and pulled out a .44 Magnum, spun the cylinder.

"Wait... there's more." he returned the revolver it's hiding place. Then he snapped his left arm down and a .38 Special slid into his hand. He did the same with his right and a Colt .25 appeared. They applauded politely and he bowed saying, "I am the Taxi Driver."

"And I got the Beretta's," Revy announced. "I'm not losing this pair. Can I have the extra ammo and magazine clips in the bag Tony?"

Tony rummaged around the duffel bag, looked up shaking his head. Revy spit.

"That cocksucker Martin!" she shook her head in disbelief. "I'll have to be careful with what I got."

"Y'know," said Tony mildly. "This is just a robbery. We go in, take the money and hasta tacos baby. We won't be doing any shooting."

"Then why did Martin give us enough firepower for a fuckin' war," Revy demanded. Tony shrugged. She continued: "Something about this isn't right. Seems weird that a cat-house would be on the docks in a shipping warehouse."

"Actually, it's about the best place to have one," said Blondie flicking the cigarette butt and grinding it out with his heel. The room was non-smoking. "There's quite a few places like that in downtown Manhattan, you know."

"Let's go," said Small Talk.

"Why not?" Tony replied.

--

They had argued the night before, huddled together, their jackets touching, on the rooftop of the building overlooking Canal Street..

"Mike has nothing in common with you, he's like on the other side," complained Tony jealously.

"But he doesn't go around making up crap stories about boning me like you did this summer," she snapped back. "You're nothing but a big mouth."

Tony cracked his knuckles. "Okay I get it."

"And he's a nice guy, you're not."

"Usually that's the kiss of death," Tony pointed out. "When girls tell me I'm a nice guy, its freakin' over. You saying otherwise?"

"Yeah I am," she retored. "Big fifteen year old stud threatening to rape skinny thirteen year old psycho slut? That's you."

"What the hell do you wanna hear?" Tony glared at the hunched up shadow . "Okay fine. Yes I did. I screwed up. I went around and told shit about you. I'm fucking sorry okay."

She was on him in a flash swinging wildly and they toppled over together, rolled on the roofing till they collided with a duct vent."What the fuck...

"Never, ever say you're sorry," she ground out between wild punches that lacked a real focus until he finally grabbed her wrists and she relaxed and stopped. Revy's eyes glowed in the night with an intense rage, her mouth moving spastically. Finally the words came out.

"Let me tell ya something," she said rapidly. "That last couple we stayed with... creep was a cop. Supposed to be Mr. Amazing. After a while he started screwin' me, he'd get on toppa me and put a goddamn pillow over my face so Aki couldn't hear me scream. And you know what the fucker said every son of a bitchin' time he was done with me. 'I'm sorry, Rebecca.' Like that made it all freakin' right, the happy smile sun would come out tomorrow and bunnies would play at my feet. Son of a bitch."

Revy rolled off him, huddled up shaking her head violently.

"Damn, I didn't wanna ever go there," she mumbled. The girl lifted her head and stared at the speechless boy. "I was just a little kid Tony – yeah it was nine months or so, but it seems so goddamn long ago. Don't ever say you're sorry. Only those fuckin' hypocrites say that in their nice little homes and shit, and that's after they rape the crap out of you in every way possible. They're fakers, all of them!"

"What are you then," said Tony in the silence that followed. "And if so, isn't Mike one of them? It's like I said."

Revy didn't say anything, they both sat motionless as the cold deepened. Finally she stirred and stood up.

"You're right," she said incoherently. "I know what I am. A punk bitch with a gun. I dunno. I guess I'm a killer. Guess I'm blowing Mikey off for his dance then on Monday..."

She bent over him quickly.

"If you want me, you'll have to take me. Talk's cheap, baby." Revy said with what was meant to be a throaty growl, but it ended as a squeak. Embarassed at how her words had come out, Revy scrambled away leaving Tony alone on the rooftop. He could hear her rapid steps fade down the stairwell.

--

The time was 12:30 am, Sunday morning.

A full moon shone with a ring around it in the cold, clear night sky The battered Toyota weaved through the eastbound traffic on Interstate-95. Blondie was driving.

"One more time," Tony said turning back in the front passenger seat. "It's a brothel located in a warehouse. That way the police don't notice the traffic, or just don't care. The security's managed by the Soaring Serpents so that what's up with the weaponry, but I can't imagine more than two or three of them. Revy stop that!"

She was bouncing impatiently in the back seat between Sad Eyes and Small Talk, "This is so cool," she blurted out immaturely. "We finally get to loot and pillage like a real road crew, and I'm doing it with my gang!"

"Well, here's the part that isn't cool, Vuong's backing us up with his guys." Revy stopped bouncing with an instant frown, her hand touching the almost vanished bruise on her cheek. "We'll meet up in the parking lot outside the place. Martin wants him to cover the back just in case."

"We're going in the front," Tony continued. "Blondie and I will go in first and round everyone up and find out where they store the money. Sad Eyes - Small Talk – you're the bagmen. Revy, I want you to cover our backs just in case something goes wrong. You're good at that kinda stuff."

"The guns are for intimidation guys," he warned, thumping the seat for emphasis with the flat of his hand. "Keep them pointed at the ceiling, I don't wanna have my head blown off by accident like what's his name a couple month's ago." He referred to a botched robbery in Chinatown where one of the BTK members had killed another by accident.

"Get the hats on," he ordered as they pulled in. "And Revy, oh you did it already..."

Revy had smeared black makeup for a Groucho Marx style mustache on her upper lip. With the baseball hat pulled down she could not be instantly recognized as a girl.

"We go in, we get out," he concluded. "And it's party time."

--

The weekend before...

The first heroin shipment had come in from Thailand. The container ship had taken on an extra cargo while passing through the Straits of Malacca. Cargo delivered in small boats from the sleepy port of Roanapur in Thailand on it's long journey to the United States. The ship passed through through the Panama Canal and cut north up the coast, The final destination being New Haven, Connecticut.

Long after the regular cargo had been inspected by U.S Customs and unloaded a nondescript truck pulled up on the dock late at night. The extra cargo was quickly moved into the back and the truck started up with a harsh grinding of gears.

Then suddenly the vehicle was blocked in by a swarm of cars, quickly disgorging gunmen. From the lead car swaggered a figure in black leather and body armor, Glock 18c auto pistols holstered low on her thighs. She appeared to be Chinese, but the woman was unnaturally pale with red-pupilled eyes and white flowing hair.

The woman swung up on the driver side of the truck with a flourish and smiled wickedly at the terrified drivers cowering inside. "Really, you shouldn't have bothered," said Lijuan the Albino. "The Hop Sing Tong will take care of this, you can run back to your boss now. Tell Martin Sai and his friends they chose the wrong business and the wrong place..."

--

12:50 am.

"Whatsamatter with her?" demanded Vuong, standing cockily with with his two silent companions flanking him. There were a few scattered cars throughout the parking lot in front of the warehouse but no sign of activity at this late hour. A lone street light flicked above them. Tony and the rest had gotten out to meet them, but Revy refused to leave the car.

"Can't imagine." Tony said coldly, holding the the BAR. "So why did Martin send ya? He didn't think we could handle it?"

"Something like that," Vuong agreed grinning. "But it's your show, we're to cover the back of the building just in case anyone tries to bolt. I guess this place makes a lot of money and Martin wants to make sure we clean it out. Hold on a sec."

To their surprise he strode over to the car and stuck his head in the open back window. Vuong blinked as Revy looked back at him sourly. The barrels of both Berettas hung motionless within an inch of his eyes.

"Hey, it's good to see you to, Revy," Vuong said, eyes flickering nervously between the guns and the irritated girl. "But you need to get out here and listen up. We can't have any fuck ups on this okay? No hard feelings? We're all Born to Kill now."

"Asshole," Revy hissed. Reluctantly she climbed out of the car and joined the group, standing petulantly behind Tony's shoulder.

"I've done this before," said Vuong. He handed over to Small Talk and Blondie two walkie talkies. "The most important thing is to keep in touch. Like I said, we'll go around back just in case and keep an eye on things. But if you spot the police, or if we do – show's over and everyone's gotta bolt. Let us know when you're going so we can run. That's it, unless you forgot to mention something."

"No," said Tony. They split up and moved towards the building. The moon hung low over Long Island Sound.

--

12:55 am.

Lieutenant Chanarong, formerly of the Thai Royal Army, currently in the pay of the newly formed Roanapur Syndicate watched them through the night-vision scope of the sniper rifle from a neighboring rooftop. His spotter, Kamoi tapped him on the shoulder.

"That appears to be the girl we saw fight a couple weeks back." Kamoi said.

"It appears so," whispered Chanarong back. "She had spirit. Too bad. But they will draw out the real enemy and then we'll strike them down!"

"I don't think so," a feminine voice laughed behind them.

Kamoi made a choked noise that was cut off as he fell heavily onto his side, laying quite still with his eyes still open.

Chanarong made a whistling noise through his teeth as he swung around. The man snatched for his shoulder holster but was too slow as the albino seemingly tapped the side of his head with her extended hand. For a moment the man stood motionless, and then he slumped limply to the rooftop with a final sigh, a metal spike jutting from his temple.

"The problem with diversionary tactics," the woman said reflectively over the dead bodies. "Is that they can be used against you in turn. You should not have been so focused on those silly children you use so wantonly."

The woman straightened, looked across the darkened parking lot to another building opposite the warehouse. There were flashes of light and what sounded like fireworks popping. Lijuan nodded in satisfaction.

"What has happened?" she spoke into mouthpiece of her headset in Cantonese . "Report now."

"Our task is complete, the Thai mercs are down," a voice crackled back. "But we have just discovered there is a serious problem."

The albino stiffened: "What?"

"It is not understood how, but the brothel is not deserted. This street gang from Chinatown, these Soaring Serpents either did not receive the orders to clear out or chose not to. Nothing has been prepared. The warehouse is not clear, we repeat – it is not clear."

The woman cursed viciously. "_Chut Suk_ is an idiot! These Americans are nothing but incompetent fools and a disgrace to their ancestors. How can they not follow simple instructions? Must Hong Kong do everything?"

She broke off with a impetuous snap of her head, flinging the white mane back. Then she spoke rapidly. "Nothing changes, stay clear until you hear from me. I will take of these children myself. And the _yin wa_."

Lijuan stepped off the side of the building and dropped into the darkness below.

--

12:55

Tony banged on the door. "Hey!"

A slot in the metal door creaked open and an eye peered out examining them. "What do you want?"

"What do you think we want?" Tony replied leering and acting drunk. He tried his best to sound like the singer from ZZ Top. "We hear this place is number A-1 okay. You gotta lotta nice lookin'g girls in there don't ya? Ba how, how hooo."

"There's a cover," the voice said through the slot. "Just to get in is a twenty for each of you, that's a hundred for all of you."

"We can count," slurred Tony. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the necessary bills and started shoving them in the slot giggling.

There was a crackle of static, "This is Vuong. Over." Blondie and Small Talk fumbled frantically at the walkie talkies. Revy rolled her eyes in disgust.

"What was that," the eye popped back up in the slot and looked at them suspiciously.

"Nothing, nothing at all," babbled Tony. He started kicking in the door. "C'mon man! Let us in. We're horny!"

There was the sound of a lock being undone, and then it opened. Instantly Tony and Blondie threw their weight against the opening door and charged in. There was a yelp of pain and the man behind the door went staggering back. A flurry of enthusiastic blows followed.

"This is a goddamn stickup, Asshole! Hands in the air!" Sad Eyes shrieked and swung the shotgun like a club at the doorman's head. The man crumpled in slow motion.

"Put that damn thing down," Tony cursed stepping over the motionless body. Revy drifted in noiselessly through the doorway, a gun at the ready in each hand. She scanned the interior of the building as the boys milled about. It certainly looked like a warehouse, a giant open space with racks of containers and plastic barrels, the loading dock to their right. Her eyes flicked to the side, a metal stairway led up to the second floor. From what they had been told the brothel was up there.

"We heard gunfire. What's going on? Over." Again Vuong's voice crackled over the walkie talkies.

"Not us dude," responded Blondie, lifting up the walkie talkie and pressing the transmit button.

"Shit, we gotta move. Go, go, go!" Tony shouted. Blondie, Small Talk and Sad Eyes stampeded for the stairs.

Tony held back, spoke urgently to Revy. "I hate to ask this," he said breathlessly. "But can you go out and see what the hell's up with Vuong and those shitheads? Don't shoot them or anything, please."

"Okay," said Revy with a crooked grin. She made for the door and was gone.

"_Chúc may mắn,_" said Tony under his breath. He ran after his gang.

--

12:59am

The girl sprinted rapidly down the walkway and around the corner towards the back of the warehouse. Revy felt too exposed under the large light that illuminated the side lot and was relieved when she moved back into the shadows.

Raising the barrels of the guns up, Revy slid alongside the metal siding of the building lifting each boot delicately . She dropped down into a crouch and peered around the corner breathing rapidly.

The back lot was barely wide enough to allow vehicle access and was hemmed in by a wire mesh fence, separating it from yet another warehouse lot. The area was also far too well lit for her liking. Alongside the building edge was a row of garbage cans and Revy scuttled behind them. Something was wrong.

Vuong and one of his crew, probably Mot, were standing by the back door entrance five meters away, their backs to Revy. Their breath swirled around them in a fog. They were facing someone; a single figure who strode towards them with deliberate attitude.

"Hey baby!" whistled Vuong, and Revy realized the figure was a woman. Revy's eyes widened in surprise. This was certainly not one of the girls of the brothel coming into work at this late hour. She had never seen anyone, anything like this before. The woman was clad in black leather and combat boots, a military harness overlay her torso. A white mane of hair framed a pale oval face with the reddest eyes she had ever seen.

What the hell were Vuong and Mot doing? Where was Hai? They seemed oblivious to the menace this woman represented. Instead they kept hooting like complete idiots as the woman closed on them. And she was smiling at them! Revy's heart skipped in fear. The girl began to rise from behind the garbage cans to cry out a warning to the duo. Vuong with a belated sense of self-preservation finally stepped back and raised his gun shouting. Mot stood there uselessly.

Pale flames burst from the woman's hands. The double roar of gunshots bounced off the walls of the building. Bone and brain-matter exited from the back of both of Vuong and Mot's heads in a synchronized spray of gore.

The two Born to Kill gangsters staggered about. Revy collapsed with a gasp behind the garbage cans and without knowing it soiled herself. The albino woman had drawn like a gunslinger from one of those old movies, nothing but a blur of motion. The next few seconds slowed to a crawl. The horrifically distorted shadows danced in tandem on the warehouse wall and then melted away as the bodies finally thudded to the pavement, one after the other.

Silence. Except for the heart thundering loudly and frantically against her ribcage. Revy held her breath, choking on the effort. She couldn't allow her breath to be seen.

The albino spoke, her voice as soft as the coo of a dove.

"Rebecca."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Road Kill, Part Two**

_And I'm going down, all the way down  
I'm on the highway to hell_

_"Highway to Hell," Lyrics by AC/DC_

1:00 am

"Rebecca, I know you're there," the woman said.

Revy exhaled. Without thought she spun one coiled leg back into the angle of the wall and the ground and then thrust violently out from that solid base with both legs from the cover of the garbage cans, hurling herself into the air and out from behind the garbage can where she had been crouched. Both guns swung towards the voice...

Revy pulled the triggers, alternating between each gun. The Berettas recoiled in her hands.

At the same instant Revy had acted, so had Lijuan. The woman bounded onto the nearest garbage can and then sprinted up and along the length of the wall at Revy. The boots pistoned rapidly into the sheet-metal as the albino turned almost vertical to the ground by the third step.

Gravity brought Revy down from her dive towards the pavement. Twisting her upper body to absorb the impact with the right shoulder tucked, Revy continued firing. Bullet-holes blossomed in the wall behind the albino as she spun off in an aerial cartwheel over the girl, legs slashing through the air.

Revy hit the pavement hard with a bone jarring thud. She let momentum carry her into a side roll and came up on her feet, pulled both her elbows into her chest like a figure skater doing a spin for maximum speed to redirect the guns. But it was too late, the albino had landed slightly behind the girl.

Revy turned, whipped the left hand, the base of the gun meant to club the side of albino's head. With an economy of motion created by years of training, Lijuan merely turned her head and let the blow continue by. Then the woman moved in with a graceful sweep, the hands snaking in to entrap Revy's wrists. The Berettas were ripped from Revy's grasp and thrown aside. Without pausing the woman twisted Revy's right wrist with her right hand and dropped her left forearm down in back of the girl's elbow in an arm-lock. Revy buckled with a short scream of pain and dropped forward onto the pavement.

Lijuan held the defeated girl down. Her guns had never left their side holsters. The moment lengthened, with only the ragged sound of Revy panting. A look, not of triumph, but of disappointment briefly showed the blazingly white face of the albino, lit up by the security lights.

"I thought you better," Lijuan said finally in halting English.

--

12:58 am

"Everyone down on the ground," shouted Blondie.

The group had burst through the door into a dimly lit entry room of the loft. The two scantily clad girls who had moments before had been giggling together on a couch in the foyer screamed. The bored Soaring Serpent gang-member who had been standing at the hallway entrance, soda can in one hand took one startled look and threw himself on the floor. The soda can went flying and splattered on the cheap rug tiles.

Tony gritted his teeth and strode over to the prone Soaring Serpent and gave him a kick in the ribs, "Where's the money, where's the safe?"

Blondie and Sad Eyes ran down the hallway and started throwing open the the rows of doors. "Get out, get out." Several semi-naked girls and one fat client with his pants around his ankles came tumbling out into the hallway.

Sad Eyes stepped back and kicked the last side room door open. "No! No! No!" he shrieked charging in The shotgun boomed. Blondie followed cursing, pushing the girls aside.

With a cruel glint in his eye, Small Talk whipped out the .44 revolver and jammed it against the head of the terrified Soaring Serpent at Tony's feet. He thumbed the hammer back.

"Where's the goddamn money?" he barked.

Through the tumult Tony heard the muffled almost indistinct bark of gunshots. He looked up. The sound had been carried in through the vents from somewhere in back. Tony grabbed the walkie talkie off of Small Talk's belt. "Vuong, what the hell's going on? where's Revy?"

--

1:02 am

"The way everyone in Chinatown was talking, I thought you Supergirl," said Lijuan. Contempt-uously she flicked off Revy's baseball hat and stepped back. "Now. On your knees. Hands on back of head. Do it."

Revy obeyed, biting her lip, head down with the bangs of her hair falling down over her eyes. Adding to the humiliation she finally became aware she had pissed herself.

"Anything on the police bands?" said Lijuan switching back to Chinese over the headset, a Glock now dangling from her hand. "Good, then go ahead and clean the building. Kill everything. I don't care, _Chut Suk_ can have a funeral party. Go in the front, I'm covering the back. I'll be but a moment..."

"Sure, go on. Cry me a few buckets worth of tears child," jeered the albino in English, talking to Revy now. "I'm Lijuan, sent by the Hong Kong Triads to clean up this mess. We knew that Mr. Martin _Anh_ _hai _ was sending you here thanks to that traitor Quang."

Lijuan spun the Glock. "I bet you didn't know you just like garbage to that man? Martin Sai, he throwing you away to set us up. But we already took care of the Thai gunmen. We set you all up. They all dead. Your boys die. You die."

The red eyed woman walked over to one of the garbage cans, reached in one for an item while keeping the gun trained on Revy. The girl couldn't take her eyes off of the bodies of Vuong and Mot sprawled in front of her, their spilled blood steaming in the cold air. The realization that she would be dead soon alongside them struck her, why else would this vampiric looking woman be sharing information? The Thai gunmen must have been Martin's guests at the meeting a couple weeks back.

Lijuan came back holding a torn plastic shopping bag from Stop and Buy, holstering the Glock. "Here, hold this." Uncertainly Revy took the bag. "No, no, hold it like this in front of you, open it up okay? Now just lower your chin like a good girl. That head of yours worth an extra five grand. _Chut Suk _owes me a bonus."

"What?" said Revy looking up. Lijuan unsheathed from her back a short sword, a Japanese wakizashi with a snap of the right wrist. With her left she grabbed a handful of Revy's hair and forced her head back down.

--

1:01 am

"What are you doing," Blondie shouted grabbing Sad Eyes from the back.

Sad Eyes licked his lips. The Mossberg gripped tightly in his hands. The windowless, poorly lit room was filled with smoke, it could be tasted, the smell of burnt gunpowder. There was a closed door at the far end with a blast pattern on it.

"He had a gun," Sad Eyes blurted out. "Whoever it was, they were real quick. Went out the door."

Blondie wasn't paying attention, he was in shock.

"Holy shit! Holy shit! Look at it!"

He pointed to the side of the room. Pushed up against the wall was a long table. Cardboard boxes filled to bursting with plastic sandwich bags filled with brown powder were stacked two, three deep. At the end was another box, filled with bundles of cash. Blondie grabbed on stack , flipped it with his hands like a card deck. They were all hundred dollar bills, a multiplicity of Benjamin Franklin's gazed back at him. There were bundles of bills tossed about with no sense of order on the floor.

"Oh shit!"

--

Hai threw the open the door and trotted out into the back hefting the duffel bag in one hand and a shotgun in the other. He stumbled over something that lay on the ground. Gathering himself Hai squinted against the light.

A white maned woman with shallow red eyes looked back at him, her mouth slightly parted in astonishment. She had a sword in one hand. That horrid girl Revy who had tried clawing his eyes out not that long ago, was kneeling in front of the woman. The girl's face was contorted in fear as she held a plastic bag before her for some unknown reason. A halo of diminishing gun smoke floated around the two frozen figures. Both of the two woman were hyper outlined against the backdrop of darkness in the security flood light

He had tripped stumbled over the prostrate form of Vuong. Mot lay before him. He stood in their blood.

"Motherfucka! That's my brother!" snarled Hai. That broke the moment.

Hai dropped to one knee.

Lijuan released the sword and Revy. Both hands dropped for the guns.

Revy collapsed, falling back on her heels and twisting towards Lijuan.

Hai extended the shotgun. It had a pistol grip. His other arm, encumbered by the bag, swung underneath to steady his aim.

The sword was halfway to the ground.

Lijuan drew, the guns firing as they cleared the holsters. The first shots ripped into and through the outer lining of Revy's jacket without making contact as the girl slumped towards Lijuan's legs.

Revy's right hand darted to her boot. To the kerambit blade strapped to her ankle.

The shotgun fired. Metal and plastic fragments flew from the side of the albino's head. Hai had only managed to blow the headset off.

The Glocks barked back, one of the albino's shots slamming through Hali's shoulder.

With both hands Revy punched the blade with all her strength through the lacing of Lijuan's right boot, the blade thrusting completely through the arch of the foot. Lijuan screamed and threw herself backwards in a convulsive thrust.

Revy thrashed frantically away from the albino, rolling over and lunging for the closest Beretta where it had fallen. She sprang to her feet and bolted for the door grabbing the swaying Hai by his uninjured shoulder. "C'mon!"

The shotgun dropped from Hai's nerveless hands, he let the girl pull him along. They stumbled through the doorway into the building; and as the steel door swung shut behind them it shook and boomed like a drum from the hail of bullets following them.

--

"Everywhere I go, somebody shooting at me," gasped Hai, stopping halfway up the back stairwell. He slumped on the railing clutching the duffel bag, his jacket was open - his shirt was red with his own blood. "that idiot Sad Eyes almost shot me, and that woman did."

Revy had bounded to the top of the landing where she promptly bent over at the waist and vomited. After a few spectacular heaves and choking burps she lurched and almost tumbled down the stairs.

"Holy crap, I almost lost my head.. What? How'd you get in?" she gasped wiping her mouth roughly with the coat sleeve.

"Door was open," he said. "I walked right in, Vuong thought it was a good idea. There's a lab full of white chinese and money up there. Can you believe it? I filled up this duffel bag with cash in seconds," Hai grimaced. "Fuck, this hurts like hell."

"Listen," she said urgently. There was a frenzy of shouting and thumping on the other side. Her eyes widened as she recalled the albino's words.

_"Your boys die."_

_--_

Lijuan reloaded the magazines on the Glocks first and then attended to the knife. With a gasp she pulled it out of her foot and threw the blade aside. She put a shaky hand to the side of her head where a trickle of blood dripped down her cheek, it appeared that her ear was still there.

The headset she used to communicate to her men was destroyed. And she suddenly had the disturbing vision of being out-gunned and outnumbered if her men drove those children out the back of the building. Normally she would have relished the challenge, but with her foot damaged, she had no mobility.

Even worse she could hear sirens faint in the distance; too much gun play had happened without the use of silencers. She couldn't order her men to abort the attack. Time was running out.

Lijuan stood up awkwardly and started limping as fast as she could.

That wretched girl really had to die.

--

"Open the fucking door," Revy shouted. "Dammit, it's me!" The girl was galvanized to action, putting aside her fright. She pounded on the fire door that Hai had closed when he ran away from the trigger-happy Sad Eyes. Hai pulled himself to the landing, gripping his shoulder.

The door opened outwards, and a shotgun barrel poked through. An alarmed looking Sad Eyes peered from the crack.

"Out of the way!" Revy screamed. She drove under the barrel of the shotgun and shouldered Sad Eyes violently to the side, burst through the room.

She had a momentary glimpse of all the group stuffing money into bags, pockets, anything they could carry. Her momentum carried into the loft hallway and she bolted for the entry room. She had fired perhaps six shots before being taken down by Lijuan. That left her with at less than ten rounds in the magazine.

Tony and Blondie scrambled after her.

A sound like popcorn in a kettle began amidst screams.

--

Left to their own devices in the entry room as Tony and the gang looted, the panic stricken group of prostitutes, the Soaring Serpent gang member, and the one customer had made a stampede for freedom out of the warehouse loft.

They were met on the way down the stairs to the storage level. Lijuan's men had burst in as commanded, killing the doorman on the shipping floor where he lay still stunned. Three men went to checking the aisles of the warehouse. The other group of three made for the stairs and began shooting into the panicked mass of people trying to escape down the stairs. They used silencers and precise shooting; body-shot followed by a head shot.

Revy dived sidewise and slid halfway out the doorway onto the top metal stair. The gun was in her hand. She shot rapidly and without hesitation. One gunman jerked and fell theatrically over the railing.

But she hadn't expected what happened next. The surviving girls and the fat customer clad only in jockey shorts turned and came boiling back up in a welter of grabbing, flailing limbs and shrieking voices. She covered her head with her arms expecting to be trampled, but Tony and Blondie grabbed her ankles and yanked her out of their path.

"BAR," she shouted over the tumult, sitting up by the side of the doorway. Tony handed the big gun over without hesitation. "Blondie, Uzi's. 'bove me."

She rolled back.

It takes only three seconds to fire a twenty round clip on the Browning Automatic Rifle. The twin Uzi's that Blondie leveled down the stairs could unload at the same rate. They fired together in one climactic racket of deafening noise. The two gunman coming up at them were ripped apart and thrown aside.

"There's more down there," shouted Revy in the following silence. Even with her voice raised, it sounded tinny and far away. She dropped the BAR, it was useless now without ammo and started firing with the Beretta at the others below. "We can take them."

"We're going out back now," Tony shouted back.

"No, we have to go this way," she protested. Tony grabbed her by the jacket and pulled her along roughly. Revy dug in her heels resisting. In response the boy grabbed her around the waist and carried her bodily away as a fresh round of bullets whined up from below.

"We won't fucking make it," she screamed struggling. "The bitch, she's out there... she's waiting for us..."

--

They went down the back stairs herding the surviving prostitutes and the one customer before them as a shield. Small Talk held the door open as the terrified group stumbled out, letting them run away in both directions. Blondie, Hai, Tony and Revy followed close behind, all of them clutching bags stuffed hastily with money. Revy whipped her head in both directions; Lijuan wasn't waiting for them. The sirens were getting louder, and what sounded like the whumph-whumph of a helicoper could be heard approaching.

"Where's Nguyen," said Blondie, referring to Sad Eyes as in a tight bunch they began running to their left, the opposite of the way Revy had first approached the rear. "Where'd he go."

"He bolted," said Small Talk. "When you guys opened up with the heavy stuff he grabbed a bag and ran. Bet he jumped the fence. He's gone."

"Ahh, shit," Blondie cursed.

They turned the corner, dodged around a gray windowless van parked alongside the building.

"Just get to the car," Tony yelled. "Keys in the ignition. Go, go, go..."

Lijuan stood up as they rushed past the van into the parking lot in front. The albino had been crouched in front of the radiator grill, hiding in the shadows. She stepped out behind them favoring the injured foot. A smile of satisfaction curved her bloodless lips. The tall blond _Viet-Ching_ boy with the black trench-coat and the Uzis was closest. She started with him.

Blondie was shot in the back with a single 9mm hollow point bullet. He ran on a few steps on momentum before he went limp in mid stride and collapsed to the ground. His eyes closed and opened and stayed open.

Lijuan swung the gun onto Tony Ngo and shot him twice. Tony was running alongside Revy and he lurched and as his legs doubled up under him he grabbed for the girl, dragging her down with him to the pavement. The shot meant for Revy missed.

Small Talk and Hai kept running. Small Talk ducked and dived over a parked car and seemingly vanished. Almost as an afterthought, Lijuan dropped the flagging Hai in his tracks as he ran under a light pole, the duffel bag he had held onto with such tenacity still clutched to his twitching chest.

Revy heaved herself back to her feet. Pushing off of Tony with one hand, the Beretta hanging down in the other. The brown eyes wide and empty she turned to face Lijuan. They circled each other.

"You want to do this again huh?" the albino sneered. Out of habit she tried to drop in a crouch, the right foot forward, but the injured foot failed her and she stumbled slightly. The gun in her right hand speared forward, but dropped slightly to the left and down.

Revy slipped instinctively to her own left and closer to the woman. Lijuan's shot snapped past her. Revy only brought the gun up halfway before shooting. The Beretta roared, the bullet smashing into Lijuan's right thigh.

Lijuan staggered forward, her hands opened dropping the Glocks. Arms swinging, it was her turn to fall as her leg buckled, desperately resisting, wild-eyed with disbelief.

Revy stepped forward without haste, bent over the albino and jammed the barrel of the gun against the woman's forehead, between the eyes. She pulled the trigger, once, twice, it clicked both times. The albino blinked and laughed shakily at her.

"Amateur," Lijuan whispered. "Count your shots, you little shit."

Something horrible, some unbearable emotion crossed the young girl's face, she brought the flat of the gun smashing down on the ivory cheek, giving it color.

"I don't need to shoot to kill you," Revy said tonelessly as she smashed the gun down again. A thin tearing scream rose from the woman as Revy continued mercilessly, the gun beating down Lijuan's hands. The woman couldn't defend herself.

The Toyota came to a swooping screech by where Tony lay in the parking lot. Small Talk at the wheel. For once he was frantic. "Revy, REVY! Forget about the fuckin' bitch, we gotta go! Get Tony now!"

Revy drew her legs under her and got up, looked down at the bleeding ruined face of the albino and spit. She kicked the Glocks away and finished with a hard boot to the woman's ribs. She turned and ran to help Tony into the car.

Small Talk threw the car into reverse as Revy and Tony tumbled into the backseat. He hit the pedal and burnt rubber. Lijuan's remaining gunman coming out of the building to help their mistress scrambled out of the way. Shots sprayed the car as it screeched past them.

Small Talk flung the wheel, and the car spun around. He had the presence of mind to slam on the brakes and stop where Hai lay, flinging the driver side door open.

"Sorry dude,'" he reached down and jerked the duffel bag free and tore out of the lot.

--

Lijuan's remaining gunman helped her up. They stared horrified at the torn, smashed face; one man started weeping. For five years she had been the untouchable killer of the Hong Kong Triads, and now she was a helpless, bleeding mess.

"Get us out of here," she mumbled through torn lips. The sirens were too close now.

The carried her to the van and laid her gently down on the back seat. Moments later they careened out of the parking lot. One of the men worked frantically to stop the bleeding from her shattered thigh. They were loyal to a fault, these killers.

"Listen to me," Lijuan gasped. From somewhere she found the strength to sit up, holding back the pain. "Go for the highway, we'll catch them before they reach New York. We have to get them. We won't get paid for the job if even one escapes, especially the _yin wa_. And we'll never work again if it gets out we were beaten by a pack of punk kids. We just can't let them go. We must have our honor at least."

She slumped back with a whimper. "And I need a plastic surgeon..."

"We'll do it," promised the driver grimly, staring ahead. The other two nodded.

--

"Go the speed limit, no license, go the speed limit, no license," chanted Small Talk. He stopped at the red light and stared straight ahead as police cruisers tore past him in the opposite direction, sirens screaming.

The interior of the car smelt like piss, shit, blood and gunpowder. Small Talk rolled down the driver side window and cranked the heat.

"Martin set us up," Revy blurted out. "We were bait. Quang sold us out. We got totally fucked over."

Small Talk shook his head. He moved slowly through the green light and smoothly drifted onto the entry ramp of I-95. They would have to cross the Quinnipiac River bridge and head west back to New York.

"What now," he said at a loss. "Tony, you there man? What do we do?"

Tony's face was pale and loose in the streetlights, he was bleeding badly. Revy spasmed uselessly, she only knew how to do one thing and first aid wasn't it.

She leaned forward, "He's gonna die, we gotta do something."

Small Talk hunched over the wheel, "And then what, get arrested? They won't be trying us as juvies I'll tell you."

"We're not letting him die," she hissed.

"It's because of you we got dicked over," Small Talk said, raising his voice. "Why the hell would Martin send us out as a road crew for this job? We've never done this before. All we ever did was party. Because we stood up for you we got chosen to be the suicide squad. It's your fault, so shut the fuck up you cunt."

Revy fumbled in Tony's blood-soaked jacket, pulled out his gun. "Take it back."

Tony stirred, "Both of you shut up."

"Listen," Tony said faintly, "If Revy's right, then we can't go back. You guys gotta keep going... I dunno, maybe Atlanta."

His head lolled to the side.

"Quang's totally screwed us, me over," Revy said miserably. She tucked the gun into her pants and slumped back in the seat. "That cow knew exactly who I was. Every goddamn gang member in New York must know what I look like and what my head's worth to the Hop Sing Tong. I'm dead already, I'm just not there yet."

There was a froth of blood showing on Tony's lips as he spoke, "You're a girl, change your looks. We got money now, do somethin'..."

"I'm not losing you, not losing both of you," she snapped impulsively. To Small Talk: "Where can we take him?"

"There's a hospital right off the highway in Norwalk, saw it on the way over" replied Small Talk. "I think it's about twenty minutes, maybe more from here. I'll go faster."

"I'm good. Just get me there," said Tony. He slumped over onto the girl's lap, his breath shallow. Hesitantly, not knowing what else to do she cradled his head clumsily, stared away blankly to the side out at the lights of New Haven as they rushed through what little traffic there was at this early hour. Like first aid, tenderness was an unknown, or worse, fatal. She remembered Akihito darting in front of the truck and shuddered.

"Hey, Rebecca," Tony whispered. "Did I earn it?"

--

1:35 am.

The gray van in caught up to them at the border between Fairfield and Westport, a mile before Sherwood Island State Park.

Interstate 95 has three lanes for traffic through the crowded urban areas of the New England state. The gray van slid into the slow lane behind a Peterbilt semi hauling an oil tanker and matched speed with the small Toyota Corolla in the fast lane.

"Wait for it," said Lijuan with difficulty. "We'll crash the little bastards into the tanker. We'll give them fireworks..."

The Toyota sped past the truck, opened up several car lengths on the tanker and then moved into the middle lane.

"Now," ordered Lijuan. The driver hit the accelerator.

--

The cigarette in Small Talk's mouth had burnt down to a stub. Cautious to a fault, he had been accelerating in incremental bursts, eyes darting all over the road. But the van charging up on the right side from behind the tanker caught him off guard.

"It's them, oh fuck," shrieked Revy. The girl had kept looking out the rear window to her right, uncomfortably avoiding Tony's fixed stare. What did he want from her? So when the van moved past them with a roar she knew instantly they were in trouble. Revy slammed her feet against the back of the front passenger seat and braced her back hard while reaching for the gun tucked into her pants.

The van cut hard in front of them, the brakelights lit up. The Toyota slammed into the back of the van with grinding noise and started to go sideways. Small Talk was thrown up against the steering wheel, but kept his grip; the string of Vietnamese curses cascading out of his mouth unable to dislodge the dangling cigarette.

Small Talk refused to go for the brakes, instead he drove his foot into the accelerator. The sedan broke free of the back of the van, bouncing on the tires like a living creature, he cut across to the right into the breakdown lane in a clatter of noise, a hubcap spinning loose.

Revy thrust her body over Tony's, who screamed in pain, and smashed her fist down on the button for the left window. It only came down halfway. She screamed obscenities as the van swerved in again, smashing up against the side of their car as it tried to force them off the highway.

Small Talk stepped on the brakes, the van shot forward past them. He leaned hard on the wheel cutting left in back of the van. They careened across all lanes, tires smoking. A minivan swerved wildly to avoid them and scraped up against the concrete divide, a shower of sparks cascading in it's wake. Revy had a momentary sight of shocked teenagers screaming in the backseats of the minivan as they shot past.

The gray van came after them relentlessly. Revy clawed her way back to the right side as it closed on them.

"Grab my legs," she shouted. Tony wrapped his arms around her thighs as tightly as he could manage. She poked her head and torso completely out the open right rear window. The wind smashed into her as she leaned out with some difficulty; eyes and ears overwhelmed by the roar.

Revy raised Tony's revolver with both hands. She could see not only the driver of the gray van, but that of the albino as they came charging in again, the woman's face a shattered mask hanging just behind the driver. The vehicle came straight towards where Revy hung out the side. She felt Tony's grip slipping.

The tire. The tire was a clear shot. Revy squeezed off two shots, and as the tire blew out on the gray van, twisted violently to get back in the safety of the car. She had scarcely pulled herself back in when the impact of the van, slewing and plowing into the back of the Toyota catapulted her out of Tony's grasp, and over the passenger seat.

The side of her head whipped into the dashboard. A bright light blew out her mind. Everything went dark.

--

For Small Talk there was an odd stillness, moments of utter clarity as all three vehicles spun out of control. First the gray van, slewing into the back of the Toyota and tipping over. Then the Toyota tumbling and spinning free of the road. And finally, the minivan filled with unwilling participants in this drama sliding on it's side, separate of the other two vehicles, but coming closer. Then all three came together in a horrific shrieking cacaphony of human and metal.

Following behind them, brakes screeching uselessly, the truck jackknifed in the highway, the oil tanker tipping over with a thunderous roar, sliding and embracing all three smaller vehicles in an angle before shuddering to a halt.

--

Small Talk was pinned, his legs crushed. He breathed with difficulty, refusing to give up the cigarette butt. Revy was tossed up against his broken body, she seemed unharmed, but unconscious. Tony moaned and slithered out of the back of shattered sedan on the passenger side into gasoline. The tanker had broken open, and the flammable liquid was gushing out onto the highway. The teenagers in the minivan were screaming, trapped inside their vehicle. Cars were coming to a halt on both sides of the highway, auto lights piercing the dark.

Lijuan slid out of the upturned side of the gray van and tumbled down not more than a few meters away. The albino glared at Tony with her remaining eye, scrabbling like a diseased animal, a gun clenched in one hand.

"Aww, just give it a break," Tony said. He pulled himself up and turned his back towards the woman . She wasn't worth his time.

Small Talk rolled his bloody head over and looked at Tony over the sprawled form of Revy, "Hey dude," he whispered, barely audible. "You better go. I'm good."

"I'll be just like Sung Lam," Tony said. Grinning with the effort he pulled the girl out the passenger side, picked up Hai's duffel bag from the front seat and slung it over his shoulder. Tony staggered away towards the side of the road carrying the girl in his arms in one last herculean effort.

Lijuan shouted and clawed her way up the side of the toppled van. Leaning against it, she began to raise the gun.

The smell of gasoline was overwhelming. Small Talk could hear the screaming from the minivan; the teenagers, probably not much older than him frantic to escape. He could see Tony slowly carrying the girl away. He considered his options through the rising tide of pain: If he did nothing he'd be saved by the paramedics, he could hear the sirens already. The passengers in the minivan would be saved. But Lijuan would definitely kill Tony and Revy.

The gun barked, Lijuan had missed. The albino steadied herself and prepared for a second shot. Tony kept walking away, head down. He had made the side of the interstate and climbing over a concrete divider.

_Dao lam nguoi._

It's all black," mumbled Small Talk. With twisted fingers he flicked the cigarette butt out the window. It arced into the spilt gasoline.

**Next: the conclusion of Gun Punk**

notes:

"_Sure, go on. Cry me a few buckets worth of tears,"_ a phrase Revy will later use on Garcia Lovelace in 'El Baile de la Muerte.'

Sung Lam, mythological Vietnamese hero, noted for feats of strength.

_Dao lam nguoi – _the law of Karma.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Always been Hell**

_Help me I broke apart my insides, he me I've got no_  
_Soul to sell  
Help me the only thing that works for me, help me get  
Away from myself_

_"Closer to God," Lyrics by Nine Inch Nails._

Revy's mouth was full of leaves and sticks, her body was twisted around the trunk of a tree growing out the side of the embankment in a fetal position. Groaning, she slid on her back down the rest of the angled slope to the underpass below.

Above, blue and red lights flashed from the highway edge. Voices were shouting as the fire from the tanker raged on. Where she was hidden in the shadows and the tangle of brush was a universe away.

She started to sit up and realized Tony was sprawled next to her, on his back. There was a metal strut through his stomach, the piece had been blown off the oil tanker when it exploded.She looked at his face, at the staring eyes reflecting back what the light from above, and thought _that is how it is, nothing in his eyes..._

Several hours ago in the hotel room on the outskirts of New Haven she had been overwhelmed with a kind of ruttish glee. Watching Tony talk to Blondie under lowered eyelashes, Revy had decided that once the robbery was completed... Tony would finally get what he, and she, desired with no more teasing. Being able to choose, instead of being forced violently and unnaturally to the sexual act as had happened far too many times in her brief life, was a heady thrill. Being only thirteen troubled her not at all.

And now it would never happen. Revy realized she had reached out and was holding Tony's hand. Slowly she released her grip and pulled away.

The Canal Boys were all gone, dead or missing. It seemed unfair that all she had from the disaster was a welt on the side of her head.

Tony would have told her to go. She still had his gun. She took the duffel bag

--

The reporter faced the camera: "Suspects fleeing the crime scene in New Haven became involved in a 'Mad Max' gun fight on Interstate 95 resulting in a pileup of no less than four vehicles including an oil tanker that subsequently exploded.

"At last report up to eight people were killed in the blast on Interstate I-95, including local high school athletes trapped in their vehicle in the ensuing blaze.

"One suspect in the New Haven shooting has been apprehended. Police are searching for one or more suspects who..."

"Shit!"

Martin Sai threw the remote at the television.

The fiasco was all over the news channels. Grainy shots of the oil tanker in flames. Panicked people running for their lives. He could care less about that; Tony Ngo's idiotic crew had refused to play their part in his carefully set up plan. His heroin shipment the Chinese Triadshad waylaid, his heroin was now under police custody. What had happened to Vuong?

His efforts to contact the Thai mercenaries from the Roanapur Syndicate had ended in failure. No one knew what had happened to Chanarong and his men. The news reports and the involvement of the FBI were not good. And from his sources on the streets in Chinatown there was an ominous silence. One could only imagine what _Chut Suk_ was about.

Someone had escaped: probably that ill-favored brat of Gaan's. Where would she go? What had Vuong reported a while back? That Rebecca had befriended the son of the Phuc's, the _Viet-ching_ couple that had moved to uptown Manhattan.

Martin gritted his teeth. At all costs Rebecca could not fall into police custody, the little brat would sing like the proverbial canary. As for that boy Sad Eyes, an accident would be arranged.

But who could do cleanup? No one from BTK could be relied upon (the operation had obviously been compromised,) or should be put into a position of killing one of their own. It would require an outside source; perhaps that duo from Hell's Kitchen who impersonated as cops.

He would have Madam Shu send some of her girls up to where the Phuc's lived in mid-town to keep an eye out for his fugitives. He poked at the folder with the police documents on his desk, made a decision and opened it. This would require more than just impersonators.

--

Revy managed to catch the first morning train back to New York City. After a nightmarish trek through the backyards and backroads of suburban Fairfield she had stumbled upon the train line and then the MTA station that paralleled the highway. Now Revy stood in a back alleyway off of Mott Street in Chinatown. She could barely stand, cold and hungry with the worst headache imaginable.

Without thought, she had first made for Tony's apartment and was almost within sight of the building when she realize her mistake and fled blindly and without thought to here, this desolate spot. Even New York City can be silent on an early Sunday morning.

She leaned up against a graffiti covered wall, pulled out Tony's gun and looked at it dully, looked up at the dull November sky above the buildings.

On an impulse, she turned and shot down the alley at a cluster of cans that had been left on a garbage can. With each shot a can flew in the air. She kept firing in a robotic manner until the magazine was expended. Then she dropped the smoking gun. Backed away as silence filled the alleyway.

The gun was left in the refuse of the alley.

--

The girl woke up abruptly. She had fallen asleep in a chair in one of the New York Branch libraries, secluded deep in the stacks. A library was the last place anyone would look for her. The straps of the duffelbag were looped between her arms. She thought of Hai who had held on so determinedly to his prize.

They had made off with more money than she could have imagined, but as she fumbled through the bills trying to count past fifty grand her vision blurred. Tears were splattering on the bills.

She regained control of her emotions, wiped the the tears off her cheeks. Clenching her fists slowly she made a vow.

No more tears.

--

"Cut the hair," she ordered the hairdresser at a salon on Broadway. "I don't care. Ow, watch the bruise."

"Honey are you sure about that?" said the hairdresser bustling about cheerfully.

"Yes," said Revy. "Make it different. Make me different."

--

The old clothes the green shirt, the sweatshirt, pants, even the boots were discarded hastily in the corner of the dressing room. Frantically she went through several changes until finally she was dressed in an almost white ensemble; a short pleated skirt, sweater with a high collar to hid the tattoo. Nylons and a nice pair of shoes with buckles.

She put on a jacket and contemplated a blue striped wool beret and nodded. Then she turned and checked herself out in the full length mirror

Another girl blinked sourly back at the transformation. The hair was now bleached blond, cut short and styled. Her appearance was completely altered. Except for the eyes.

"It's not me," she said. The reflection agreed.

--

Mike's eyebrows jumped. He looked down the hallway in either direction. "What'd you do to Revy? You look amazing. Weren't we on for tomorrow night? The school dance is Monday you know."

"Nothing else to do, may I come in?" she said forcing a ghastly smile.

"You know, speaking of back packs you left one with me months ago." he said closing the door behind her.

Mike's parents set out an extra plate and asked her to stay for dinner. As they ate Revy answered carefully the questions thrown at her.

- "No my parent's are dead. I don't know from where in China they came from."

- "I lived with a relative." at this Mike looked up but she kept eating.

- "I don't go to school, though I'm think of going back."

Mike's father turned on the television halfway through, shook his head in disgust at the continuing news coverage. "This business again. Chines and Vietnamese gangsters not much older than you kids. It's disgusting. This will be held against us. We work so hard, but everyone will think of us Asians as just a bunch of criminals."

Revy slowly put down her fork, "I'm not hungry anymore, Ca'm on ong. That is thank you, isn't it?"

"I need a place to stay," she said plaintively. "I can't go back, I... I can't let my Uncle hit me anymore..."

--

The phone rang. Martin Sai picked it up.

"She's been spotted," said the voice.

--

Monday, 6:00 pm

"You still look totally beat," said Mike putting down the cello by the closet. "Tell you what, let's skip the dance. It's not that important."

"Okay," said Revy listlessly. She was slumped on the couch watching cartoons on the television. The duffle bag was cradled in her ams. Mike's mother looked out of the doorway of the kitchen and gave a negligible nod of her head.

Mike took a deep breath turned off the television. "I think we need to go for a walk."

--

The wind was blowing hard as they went around the block. Revy pulled up the collar of the jacket, the duffel bag was slung over the shoulder.

"Why'd you bring it," said Mike finally.

"It's all I have," she mumbled, digging her chin deeper into the jacket. "It goes where I go."

"We had to leave Vietnam when the Chinese invaded," said Mike seemingly off topic. "My parents took me on a boat because it was either that or the re-education camps. The plan was to see if we could make the shipping lanes and get taken by a freighter to Hong Kong."

"Huh," said Revy.

"There was one family we got close to," continued Mike. "They were _Viet-kieu, _but they were running for the same reasons. I got real close with Nguyen, their son."

"Three days out, we got stopped by pirates." Mike frowned at the memory. "They robbed everyone, if you resisted – they killed you. Nguyen's parent's got shot and thrown overboard as we watched. There was absolutely nothing we could do."

"Anyway, I think you know Nguyen. My parent's took care of him as long as we could, but he started hanging out with the gangs. in fact he almost dragged me into that shit until my parents decided to move up here to mid-town."

"Sad Eyes," it was a statement, not a question on Revy's part.

Mike stopped, she turned away, not daring to meet his glance.

"Funny thing," he said. "Saw him on the news just for a sec. Arrested up in New Haven. You know, I'm not stupid. What's going on Rebecca?

"Ahhh, it was fuckin' stupid anyway," she said walking away, but shaking her head side to side like a fighter preparing for a match. "I can't carry a lie worth a shit."

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Mike striding to keep up with her. "One time you say you're free, then to my Dad you tell some crap story about being beaten by an uncle. Hell, Tony told me you were some kind of child prosti..."

"Don't even fuckin go there," she interrupted coldly, walking now with a loose swagger. "Best you leave Tony out. He's gone."

She reached into the jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Almost with a sense of relief she lit one up and blew smoke out the side of her mouth at him. She moved rapidly now.

"Here's the story baby," she said with finality as they rounded the corner back to the front. "Tony, now I would have done him eventually, but it wouldn't have worked. I knew that. But you... I like you. I really like you, don't know why, I really do. But, hey, I'm just not the girl you bring home to the 'rents I guess. This ain't going to work either."

"Holy shit," he exclaimed. "Then you were there, you were in New Haven. Oh crap, you gotta turn yourself in Beckie."

"Why the hell would 'Beckie' do that?" she sneered.

It was such a relief to finally just lose control after the horror of the last day, to finally let all the emotion that had been building out. She turned and almost danced in front of him, gesturing spastically with her hands gangster style. "News flash for ya'. I'm the bad girl. I've fuckin' killed people, Mikey! It's what I do best. You still wanna take me out Mikey? What the hell, Mikey, why aren't you looking at me, I'm right fuckin' here!"

Mike was looking past her. She whirled and the cigarette dropped from her mouth, eyes widening.

"Oh, son of a bitch!" she spit.

The two policeman grabbed her and took the girl to the ground hard. Mike stumbled back raising his hands. There was a flash of metal as they handcuffed one wrist.

_This is the good stuff said Stereo Slim with a smile taking out the handcuffs..._

The screams that came from the girl made Mike wince. Both of the officers are big men, easily over two hundred pounds each. But they can't hold her down as the girl fights back with an inhuman determination, somehow spinning out of their grip. Revy doesn't attempt to get away, she attacks them; raking fingernails across one man's face, eliciting a shout of pain as she swings the loose metal bracelet into the other policeman's face.

A nightclub cracks into her head, and Revy drops with a desperate howl, they get her handcuffed finally, she's on the ground weeping in rage. The cops stand up breathing hard from the effort.

Another man runs from the entryway of Mike's building, trench-coat flapping in the gloom. He's holding up a badge and breathing hard.

"You alright kid?" he asks Mike and then bends over and picks up the discarded duffel bag. Unzipping it, he reaches in and appears to pull out several plastic bags. "Damn, that tip was right. We got ourselves a D girl here."

"What," slurs Revy. She looks up without understanding. "What the fuck?"

"We've had reports this girl's been selling dope and shit in this neighborhood," said the Detective to Mike who has slid down against the wall of the building holding his head. "Sorry kid. We know you're clean. But your girlfriend here's nothing but trouble."

"No, no, it's not true, it's not true Mike" rasps the girl in disbelief as the officers roughly jerk her upright. Then she blanches and tries to pull free of their grasp, "what, the... oh my fucking god."

"What's that?" said Detective Phillip Antonucci as he steps closer, peers down at the frantic girl in the dim light of the street-lamps. The realization dawns on him suddenly who the perp is. The hair's all wrong, and she's taller and leaner, but it's definitely Rebecca.

The runaway. His runaway.

"Oh..." his voice fades.

"C'mon, get on with it," growls the taller cop.

"You have the right to remain silent." says the detective, his voice faltering. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney..."

"I'm not a drug dealer," she shrieks at Mike. "I swear I never sold dope! They're screwing me over. This fucking perv, he's the one who raped me and Akihito. You gotta believe..."

Mike doesn't look up. The shorter cop grunts and steps in close against Revy. He drives a fist hard into her solar plexus and she doubles over with a gasp, unable to speak further. They lift her off the ground, still kicking and slam her onto the hood of their unmarked car with a loud bang. She manages to turn and bite the short policeman's forearm, and he recoils with a scream of pain.

"Go home kid," says the shaken Antonucci to Mike as Revy is forcibly thrown into the backseat of their car. "Show's over."

--

"It looks like she did take something from you," said Antonucci. The tone of his voice bereft of emotion. He passed over Revy's duffel bag to Martin Sai through the open window of the Porsche who had just pulled up. Martin had watched the events unfold from across the street.

"We won't be calling on your services again," said Martin with a certain satisfaction tossing the bag on to the passenger seat. "In fact I'll personally make sure of that. You've done a good job Mr. Detective."

"You people are sick," Antonucci said bitterly. "You knew that was my foster daughter at one time, didn't you?"

"No," said Martin surprised and actually disgusted. "You're a pedophile and they let you take in kids? That's just wrong. Oh well... that girl did get around...Those two phonies will take of her, she isn't going to the precinct, Mr. Detective."

"Go to hell," cursed Antonucci as Martin pulled away from the curb.

--

Martin reached into his glove compartment and pulled out his passport. It was time to join Noelle in Spain.

The car phone rang as the Porsche went down Central Park west past the long line of brownstone residences. Martin answered the phone.

"You killed Lijuan so you must be repaid in kind," said the raspy voice. Martin knew instantly that he was speaking to the elusive _Chut Suk_. "At this moment your acquaintances in Thailand have met young Mr. Chang from Hong Kong. We control all the supply routes again. We will deal with you now."

Martin hung up. That _Chut Suk _had his car phone was cause for alarm. Grinding the gears of the Porsche harshly he swerved, tires screeching and took the next left available, cutting through the brown sere expanse of Central Park in November. Definitely time for the Costa del Sol. He would book a flight out of Kennedy Airport. But first it was time to ditch his trademark vehicle and switch to another, less conspicuous car. There was a parking lot not far away with several old junkers he kept for the road crews.

The 2 pounds of semtex explosives, installed by Chut Suk's operatives was attached to the chassis slightly to the left of the driver seat. The explosives were wired to go off when Martin opened the car door next.

--

Revy regains consciousness slowly, and then wishes she hadn't. She can only feel the pain.

She's so close to the darkness she can embrace it if she wants. The smell of her own blood and shit are all around. As she breathes she can hear a faint rattle, the air blowing through two bullet wounds angled beneath her right breast.

"You weren't good enough," said the Man in Black. The Midnight Riders are there, looking down from above at her broken body, an escort of the damned...

Revy tries to speak. A hiss escapes from her lips.

The Man in Black bends and squats down and now he's a paramedic. The flashlight suddenly shines in her one unswollen eye.

"She's still breathing..."


	18. Chapter 18

**Epilogue **- **Suck Away the Tender Part **

_Someday I want to run away  
To the world of midnight  
Where the darkness fills the air  
Where it's icy cold_

Where nobody has a name  
Where living is not a game  
There, I can hide my broken heart  
Dying to survive

There, no one can see me cry  
The tears of my lonely soul  
I'll find peace of mind  
In the dark and cold world of midnight

_The World of Midnight, Black Lagoon Original Soundtrack_

Those who lived...

Nguyen "Mikey" Phuc applied himself to his academics. He graduated among the top ten in his class. At the advise of his parents and peers he made no attempt to find out what had happened to Rebecca when what appear to be the cops took her away. "She fooled you son," his father said, shaking his head.

Huynh and Tony Ngo's always absent aunt won the lottery.

Noelle never returned to the States. Life was good on the Costa del Sol.

Swiss died of bladder cancer within two to three years. Caused by exposure to Agent Blue during the Vietnam War.

Mutt moved to Florida.

Quang disappeared. Apparently in pieces.

_Chut Suk_ was pleased to regain control and end the gang violence between the Chinese and Vietnamese street gangs of lower Manhattan. Until he was arrested under the RICOH statutes. The _low faan_ had not been pleased. Violence among the new immigrants could be overlooked. Gunfights on the highways was another matter entirely.

In Roanapur Thailand, a young crime-lord named Chang stood on the docks with the wreckage of two warehouses burning behind him and decided to set up shop. The heroin would continue to flow from the Golden Triangle to the forgotten island city by the ocean. The place had potential.

The Soaring Serpents kidnapped a girl in broad daylight in Queens and executed her. It was not Rebecca. The murderers were eventually arrested.

The gangs of Chinatown kept a lookout for the _yin wa_. But there were no rumors or sightings of the killer child who had shot down three men on Canal Street, had killed another four in an epic battle at Roseland and who had beaten the notorious assassin Lijuan. Rebecca had disappeared...

--

"Your badge and gun now," said the chief of Buffalo Hill, also known as the 27th precinct of the New York Police Department.

With a dismal laugh Sergeant Philip Antonucci did as requested. He slouched back in his chair.

"C'mon Chief." he said.

The Chief avoided his eyes. "I don't know what to believe. It's best you take some time off, probably think about retirement. If it gets out to the media you've been doing kids, we're gonna get raked over the coals. Geez, Phil... the vice squad caught you in there for Godsakes."

"I can't believe this shit," blustered Antonucci.

--

Antonucci made his way down the hallway to the small apartment he was now renting. He had stayed at the precinct, in the basement housing as so many cops did when they had marital issues, but had eventually wearied of the barracks. The house in New Jersey was now his wife's.

He looked forward to sitting down with a bottle of Jim Beam in front of the television. Nothing mattered anymore.

He stepped in and turned on the light. His stomach took a lurch and he gasped.

The place had been taken apart. Everything had been overturned, clothing on the floor, dishes and photo-frames shattered on the floor . There were pictures tacked to the walls. Photos that he had taken, ones he should never have been kept. Photos of young girls in various states of undress.

Something stepped out of the shadows into the hallway. Something relentless and cold.

"I know," Revy said. "I don't look too good. But I got better. Been what, eight months?"

"Your cop friends," she continued. "They broke my right leg, both my arms, several of my ribs. They screwed up my face," and indeed there was a slight slackness to the right side of her face that made the right eye look larger than the left. "They shot me and left me to die in the trash. They really kicked the shit out of me."

"I even begged for mercy, how about that?" she laughed, but there was no humor. "The doctors said I was lucky as anyone they'd ever seen. Yay me."

"They let me stay at Covenant House for a while," she started to close the distance towards the paralyzed detective. "When I got better I blew out of there and lived on the streets, sleeping in doorways, under bridges, whatever it took and started looking for you. Nothing's like it was, except this."

She took another step closer.

"I never let it go."

She raised a small snub-nosed gun in her left hand, and of all things a pillow in the right. Antonucci stepped back as she advanced.

The detective went for his holster, realized too late there was no gun .

"Yeah, this is your backup gun," she jeered. "I'm done talking."

He wanted to tell her everything. About Martin Sai, the fake cops, how he was suddenly so sorry for what he had done.

"Wait... Rebecca. you should know..." the man started to say.

Revy shot him in the gut. Antonucci lurched sideways and fell.

"Oh God!" he cried crawling away from her relentless approach, leaving a trail of blood on the faded linoleum as he made for the hallway. Someone started shouting from another apartment.

"God's not here, never was" she said straddling him.

She bent, took the pillow and pressed it down over his terrified features, his eyes begging for mercy.

"Quiet now, I don't want the boy to hear," she snarled.

Revy emptied the clip into the pillow. The body jerked and kicked and went still. She held it down till the pillow casing was soaked red then tossed it aside.

Feathers from the pillow floated in the air.

**Rock: "I don't know what broke to make her like this, but I must be broken too if I'm standing here praising her destructiveness."**

**THE END OF GUN PUNK**

Notes: The story could only end one way. The devil was in the details.

In Fujiyama Gangsta Paradise, at nineteen minutes and thirty seconds in, there is a quick flashback of Revy. A dead eyed girl with a gun. This story is about her, not the adult Revy of BL.

There is no happy ending, no moral, no lessons learned in this very non-canon, non approved interpretation of Ms. Rebecca's beginnings.

She goes from a desperate, slightly dysfunctional child to flat out being a monster. My first fear about depicting Revy's progress was the issue of remorse over killing. After researching about real child gangsters, including the girls – I realized that remorse never enters the picture. Too much of a personal luxury.

Give or take, this leaves about a 7-10 year break before Black Lagoon starts - there's plenty of time for her to work her way east to Thailand regaining her health and to develop those remarkable physical skills we know she's capable of. She's young.

Along the way she becomes a scuba diver and gun-fu master, apparently taught by Mr. Chang. She may have done prison time, but in those discussions with Rock, she never mentions anything like that. In Roanapur proper she does a period at Rowan "Jackpot" Pigeon's doing something with whips that she'd rather not talk about before she finally starts working for Dutch.

I can't verify from any of Rei Hiroe's illustrations if Revy was ever shot in the location specified.

The eye: when Revy freaks it appears she loses control of the right side of her face, the right eye larger than the left. Of course that could just be the way sh's drawn for dramatic purposes, or it could have been nerve damage from the beating she talks about.

8 Ball Chicks by Gini Sikes, The Seekers by Joshua Armstrong, Born to Kill by T.J. English; the writings of Raymond Chandler and Andrew Vacchs were invaluable to my take of Revy's childhood. My only regret is that my writing ability is not up to their level. Above all, Rei Hiroe, whose anti-heroine I took great liberties with.


End file.
